Vahklas
by Bluenblack
Summary: The V'Tosh Katur return home. And Tolaris? Well...
1. Chapter 1

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note:** Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**Description:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled". I thought it was done. I really did. But a few snips and bits were still hanging loose, so I scribbled off some scenes to tie them up. Here they are. This is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess. It picks up immediately after the other one stops.

**Caveat – The following notes are for hard-core fanfic Trekkers only. If you are a casual reader you can safely skip them. **

**Author's Note:** _I have read many heated debates among the fanfiction community on the subject of whether female Vulcans go through Pon Farr. (Yes, we actually argue about things like this.) I want to clarify my opinion on the matter. _

_I have always tried to follow known scientific laws in my stories. At least to the limits of my ability and as far as the silliness of Trek canon will permit. I hold a Bachelors in Environmental Science/Ecology, with supplemental training in biochemistry and social science. I also have over two decades of experience. Based on my background, I find the concept of a mating cycle that only affects males to be absolutely unbelievable - to the point where I refuse to even consider having it in my stories. _

_Trying to keep your story within the boundaries of known scientific possibility is what defines the difference between science fiction and pure fantasy. Nothing wrong with fantasy per se, but I write science fiction. _

_The Pon Farr is obviously a biological function, hard coded into the Vulcan flesh and blood. In other words, it is a physical need, not a mental one. Which means it predates sapience. On Earth, female animals who are not in heat/estrus/rut react negatively to males who attempt to mate with them. Watch your dog sometimes, and see how she reacts when the neighbor's male comes over and tries to get romantic when she is not in heat. Most likely he will be lucky to get away with his hide. Other female animals react in a similar manner. Why? Because in pure animal terms, there is no individual advantage for a female in mating. The only advantage lies in continuing the bloodline, and animals don't care about things like that. In order to persuade a female to mate, it is necessary to bribe/blackmail her by inducing estrus. A male doesn't need estrus. He is already in a constant state of readiness due to the unrelenting pressure of seminal fluid. There is no need to persuade a male to mate. He is going to want to mate anyway. Anywhere, anytime he gets the chance._

_Given that the Vulcan and Terran ecosystems are supposed to be similar enough for organisms from each of them to be genetically compatible, it follows "logically" that they must operate according to the same governing principles. Otherwise the two planets would be so different that people from each of them would have trouble communicating, much less mating. If Vulcan's ecosystem operates in a way remotely similar to Earth's, then a mating cycle that only affects males would be an express ticket to extinction. _

_First of all, why does evolution put animals through an episodic mating cycle at all? The answer: to take advantage of optimal environmental conditions and/or to avoid dangerous conditions. Seven years is a long. It plainly has nothing to do with yearly planetary seasons, so it probably has something to do with either solar or moon cycles. Eridani is a big, bright star, both in canon and in fact. My speculation is that Vulcan mating cycles were originally tied to Eridani's sunspot cycle._

_I reason that animals on Vulcan developed the habit of breeding every seven years to take advantage of the low point in the solar radiation, thus minimizing damage to the fetus and potential mutations. Once Vulcans became sapient, the started doing things like building shelters and keeping pregnant people inside during the bad times. As a result, it was no longer critical for Vulcans to maintain their breeding cycle in strict clockwork rhythm with the sunspot cycle. In evolution, if it isn't used it goes away, so their seven year cycles started to drift off into individual variations._

_I defy anyone to prove me wrong. J_

**Second Author's Note:** This one is going to make some readers unhappy, but I can't help it. Like I said, I go with canon whenever it lets me. I don't violate canon without a compelling narrative reason. When I do violate canon, I always come up with a reason that fits inside the rules of the Trek 'verse. Like time travel in my first story, etc. Based on canon that goes all the way back to TOS, and if my reasoning posted under the prior note is correct, then it is a virtual certainty that T'Pol went through multiple Pon Farr's before she joined Enterprise.

I am sorry if I offend all the readers who prefer to believe that Trip was the first one for T'Pol. I have to follow the numbers. The numbers tell me no, he wasn't. Unless new data comes in.

* * *

High Council Minister Kuvak sat down with a feeling of bone deep weariness, yet it was tempered with joyous relief. The issue which had weighted his mind for so many years was finally settled and dealt with. If the solution was not perfect, it was at least satisfactory. After carefully considering the options and potential outcomes, Kuvak decided that he had no logical cause for complaint.

The beaded curtain rustled softly as a young attendant entered with downcast eyes. "High Minister. Your son's betrothed has been provided with an injection of tri-ox compound as you ordered, as well as a mild stimulant. Additional hypos were left in the room for later use if needed along with high energy food bars and Terran fruit juice."

"Excellent," Kuvak refrained from smiling in this holy place, but it was hard on him. The attendant must have heard the pleased tone in his voice however, for young man's expression relaxed and he even raised his head slightly. "Has my air car been summoned?"

"Affirmative, Minister," the attendant told him. "It awaits you at the upper end of the canyon, in the traditional location. A sedan chair is ready to carry you at your convenience."

Kuvak waved away the suggestion of a chair. "I have not yet grown too feeble to walk a mere half kilometer," he said briskly. "Nor am I some ancient emperor, returning from a victorious campaign, that I should be carried on the shoulders of four stout young men." He stood up. "This retreat, and those who have dedicated themselves to service within it, have been of significant assistance to my clan many times over the centuries. Now, once again, it has provided aid at a time of dire necessity. Inform your superiors that this will not be forgotten." The attendant bowed as Kuvak walked out of the room and headed for the front exit, stepping lighter than he had in years.

_It will be some time before they are able to leave here,_ Kuvak considered, _Once Kov has passed through his Pon Farr, Anna will no doubt require time to recover. She might even require medical attention, _he suddenly realized, with a twinge of concern. But of course, the retreat maintained a Healer on staff and kept a well equipped medical bay for just such situations. Kuvak ran through a checklist of details that would need to be taken care of while his son and his soon-to-be daughter-in-law were otherwise occupied. His first move should be to contact Trip.

-&-

Eric Hess walked over to answer the door buzzer with his teeth gritted. "Who is it?" he snapped. There was a pause.

"Um... the name's Trip Tucker. Maybe Anna's mentioned me? I wanted to let you know what's been going on." Eric let his breath out in a whoosh and slapped the door open.

"Mr. Tucker! I mean - Captain Tucker," Eric fumbled. "Please, come in." He stepped back and almost frantically waved Trip into the hotel room. "I'm sorry about the way I answered the door. My nerves have been stretched a little thin, wondering what happened with Anna, and..."

Trip held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I figured you'd be chewin' nails. That's why I came over. Anna's fine, and she got everything straightened out with Kov. It was just a mis-communication. Turns out that Kov and his dad - you know his dad is a Minister on the High Council?" Eric nodded, "Well Kov is some kind of assistant to his dad. Anyway, they both had to go out of town suddenly. But they didn't leave instructions with the staff to let Anna know about what happened."

"Oh!" Eric suddenly felt the light bulb go off. "Some kind of confidential government thing. And the bureaucrats didn't want to tell her anything."

"You got it," Trip grinned.

"Now it all starts to make sense," Eric nodded. "She told me that Kov was on his dad's staff. Anna said the old man was grooming him to move into some kind of power position. Stands to reason that if there was something important stirring, he would want Kov to be there."

"Yep," Trip confirmed. "It was the kind of thing that he really wanted Kov to be there for. Anyway, my wife, T'Pol, she has a little pull with the High Council. Enough for us to find out where they went. We told Anna and she took off. Just got word a little while ago that Anna and Kov are together now. But they're still in the middle of something that they can't really just drop, ya know?"

"Oh, I understand," Eric made a chopping gesture with his hand. "It's ok. Hey, I figured that when my big sister started rubbing elbows with the Powers That Be, she wouldn't be free to just set her own schedule. Heck, nobody is free to just set their own schedule anyway."

Trip chuckled. "Isn't that the truth? Since you're at loose ends, I wondered if you'd be interested in some home cooking tonight? Then maybe take a tour of the city tomorrow, starting with our plant. Everything is shut down for the Christmas break so you could get a look at some of the guts of the place that visitors don't usually see."

"Sounds great," Eric grinned. "When and where should I show up for dinner?"

"How about 1730?" Trip suggested. "Here's our address," he added, handing over a card. "We usually eat around 1800, and that will give us some time to talk. T'Pol won't let me cook since the last time I started a grease fire. And it wasn't anything serious at all, really. But she blew it all out of proportion and kicked me out of the kitchen for good." Trip looked irritated. "But somebody has to keep the hooligan from gnawing through her leg irons while T'Pol is busy anyway. You can tell me some good blackmail material on Anna, and I can get you up to speed about her latest escapades."

"Perfect," Eric agreed.

-&-

Kov drifted slowly upward from the darkness. Sounds of tangled chaos slowly sorted themselves into separate tones. The sliding fabric of bed sheets, the hissing sighs of two people breathing, one faster than the other. The drip of water from a tap that had carelessly not been closed properly. Kov frowned, who could be so irresponsible with water?

Water. His throat hurt. His mouth tasted foul and his throat burned with thirst. There was water nearby, he could hear it. And now he could smell it. Smell was coming back to him. The smell of water, and damp stone, and something else... His nostrils flared, drinking in the scent hungrily. SHE was here. His eyes flew open.

Anna was asleep. Her tangled hair spread across her pillow, darkened at the roots by sweat. The sweet scent of her perspiration that had driven him into wakefulness hung heavy over the bed. Even now, after the fever had passed, it reached deeply into him and sent his heartbeat racing.

_My mate. _

Kov stared in wondering disbelief. There was no sign of a sheet anywhere, they must have torn everything off the bed. Even the pillow that Anna clutched was uncovered. Kov himself lay sprawled at an angle and, to his delight, he slowly came to realize that Anna's legs were intertwined with his own. He closed his eyes took several deep breaths to calm himself, lest he lose control again.

"You don't have to do that you know." Kov's eyes popped open to catch Anna watching him with sleepy mischief in on her face. "It's a bit late to worry about self-discipline now."

Kov stared at her and reached out gingerly, running his fingertips across her cheek. "You are here," he whispered in amazement. She smiled.

"I've been right here all along, you fool." Anna rolled over and kissed him deeply. Her bare flesh pressed against him and combined with the kiss to crumble every vestige of control he had. Perhaps the fever had not completely run its course after all...

&

Tizok reported into the comm, "The intermix ratios have been stabilized for the present, Captain Tolaris. Our deuterium levels are barely adequate to bring us home if no further unexpected demands are made, and if we do not exceed 0.63% space normal while we are in-system."

"Acknowledged, engineering."

The comm went silent and Tizok glanced around sadly. None of them were under any illusions as to what the ultimate fate of the _Vahklas_ would be. A ship this old, and in such poor condition, would be unlikely in the extreme to qualify for refurbishment. In approximately 17.643 hours, _Vahklas_ would dock for the last time and the journey of the V'Tosh Katur would finally be over.

Young Saldre walked over diffidently. Despite his best efforts, Tizok could easily see the fear in his eyes. Saldre had always been a disappointment to his House, and when he joined the V'Tosh Katur he, like so many of them, had been cast out. This homecoming was a bitter one to him.

"Elder," he asked respectfully, "I ask counsel. I have considered my options, and it occurs to me that perhaps the Humans who are working on their engine upgrade project might be willing to consider my application. Will you evaluate my logic in this?"

"It seems at least a feasible option to explore," Tizok told him. "During our encounter with the Human ship, they seemed a tolerant people. Kov's latest communications have offered no evidence to contradict this."

"Then, do you think that Kov would find it objectionable if I were to request his assistance in seeking such a position? Since he has regained favor with his father's House, I would not wish to cause him any difficulty." Saldre looked down.

Tizok recalled something. "Please wait here." He raised his voice, "All of you, come here briefly." The rest of the engineering staff paused in their duties, which were few enough while the ship was at sub-light, and congregated on the senior engineer. "I had intended to announce this in any case, and Saldre's question makes this an appropriate moment. During my last message from Kov, he inserted a statement to the effect that every member of the _Vahklas_ crew is welcome to contact him at any time for any reason. He also specified that he is here to serve, and that if any of us has a need, we should not hesitate to ask."

A group sigh of relief stirred the peeling finish in the old ship's guts. "This is most agreeable news," T'Hosh, the lone woman on the staff, admitted. "I confess to some concern regarding my ability to locate a position."

"I believe that we have all shared that concern," Tizok told her, "whether we acknowledged it verbally or not. However, Kov's position as an assistant to a Minister on the High Council should allow him to find something for all of us. The positions might not be ideal, granted."

"At this point," Pojik stated with a bite in his voice, "any position at all would be ideal."

Saldre said meekly, "I intend to inquire about assisting the Humans on their engine upgrade project. I suspect that they would be less judgmental than most of our own people."

"Was that also your thought, Tizok?" Pojik asked, "When you agreed to take the position aboard the _Enterprise_?"

"In part," Tizok admitted. "But also because it was a remarkable opportunity to study a people who managed to successfully integrate thought and emotion, and built a star-faring civilization while doing it. There is also the fact that the Human captain was approaching desperation, and Kov felt personally responsible."

"Why?" Saldre wanted to know.

"Because the Human engineer is leaving to become Kov's wife," Tizok told them. "Thereby leaving _Enterprise _without a qualified chief engineer. Kov feels a deep sense of obligation in this matter."

"Kov is marrying a Human?" T'Hosh looked openly astonished. "This is delightful. He is upholding the truest principles of the IDIC philosophy."

"He seems to be quite pleased with her," Tizok told them. "And she with him according to his report."

"I can only imagine the scandal," Pojik said with relish. "I am relieved. I feared that circumstances had broken him, had forced Kov to surrender to social expectations. But I see now that he is still the stubborn rebel we all know and love."

-&-

Eric took a deep breath and pressed the button. After making a point of assuring Captain Tucker that he could certainly manage to navigate his way to their home, he had managed to get lost eleven times on the way over. Now, eighteen minutes late and sweating like a horse, he had finally managed to reach the right address. The Tucker house was a small cottage-type home set in the outskirts of Shi'kahr. It's yard lacked the traditional barrier wall of the older homes near the center of the metropolis. This newer neighborhood, primarily inhabited by immigrants and young professionals just getting started, reminded Eric Hess of a Human subdivisions. Rows and blocks of cookie-cutter houses all neatly lined up in nearly identical rank and file, with only token fences an occasional decorative plant to distinguish one from another.

The door opening caught him by surprise. He had unconsciously been anticipating the sound of footsteps, despite the fact that the thin Vulcan atmosphere rendered him half deaf to normal activities. Trip smiled and waved him inside, and Eric stepped into blessed shade. "Whoosh! That feels good," he sighed.

"No kidding," Trip commiserated. "At this time of day I try not to even go outside. Come into the kitchen and get some icewater."

"You're a good man, Captain Tucker," Eric told him gratefully. He followed his host down a stone floored hallway with an arched ceiling, past a spacious sunken living area and into the kitchen located at the rear of the house. A slim-framed but blatantly pregnant young woman stood at a stove operating various cook pots and associated spoons. Meanwhile a diminutive tousled creature, apparently also of the female persuasion (the pigtails were a dead giveaway), peered suspiciously at him from beneath the edge of the table.

Eric worked his fingers into the V shape of the Vulcan greeting, but only the first two obeyed. His third and fourth fingers insisted on splaying out independently. Finally he grabbed them with his left hand in frustration and crossed them over each other, hoping friction would hold them in position long enough. "Peace and long life, Mrs. Tucker," he said with as much dignity as a sweat soaked, exhausted man could muster. "I apologize for being late. I am afraid I overestimated my ability to navigate in a strange city."

T'Pol Tucker returned his salute with practiced ease, giving the relieved Eric a chance to drop his hand. "You apology is accepted, Eric Hess, but quite unnecessary. Be welcome to our home. Please take water and rest yourself."

Trip finished pouring a good sized mug full of icewater and handed it over, and Eric joyously started pouring it down his throat. "Oh man, that tastes good," he gasped when he finally came up for air.

"Drink all you want," Trip told him, offering a refill, "but I will tell you from experience that you better take it a little slower. Too much too fast is not a good idea."

"You're probably right," Eric admitted. "It's just that I've spent the last few years in Canada. It doesn't get this hot in Newfoundland."

"No," Trip said contemplatively, "as I recall it doesn't. Not anywhere near. Let's go sit down and give our puny Human feet a rest from this gravity." As Eric followed him back down the hallway, he noticed a small figure peering around the corner of the doorway after them. When he sat down on the couch that Trip indicated, a pair of small blue eyes slowly emerged at floor level around the edge of the living room entrance, watching him fixedly.

"Come on in, honey," Trip called gently. "It's ok. He's a good one." The little girl carefully advanced into the room, eyeing Eric with the wariness of a hamster watching a cat. He lowered his mug and tilted his head.

"Hm," Eric said. "What are you?" She paused and snuffled.

"'M 'Lissa," she told him defiantly.

"You're a Lissa?" Eric said curiously. "What's a Lissa?"

"Me!" She retorted indignantly. "I'm Lissa!" Trip grinned behind his hand.

"I never saw a Lissa before." Eric considered. "I've seen turtles, and dogs, and pollywogs, and ostriches. But I never saw a Lissa before. What do Lissa's do?"

She stared, nonplussed. An inquiring look at her father produced only a shrug. "I'm ta ony Lissa."

"The only one? Really?" Eric's eyes grew round. "How do you know? Did you ever look for other Lissa's? Where did you come from?"

"Urrrrr!" She stamped her foot. Marching over to Eric, she got in his face and announced, "I'm Lissa 'cause hit's my NAME. I'm a people."

"A people?" Eric drew back. "You're too little to be a people."

"AM NOT!" She bared her teeth. "I'm a Lissa people."

"Oh, well then. In that case, what do Lissa people do?" Eric wanted to know.

"Play games, and read books, and help Ma'Mehk," she informed him.

"You read books too?" Eric smiled. "I like books. What kind of books do you read?"

T'Lissa considered. "I like the piggies book, where dey cook da wolf."

"The Three Little Pigs? That was my favorite when I was a little person too," he told her. "Can you really read it?"

"Uh-huh," she told him proudly and emphatically.

"Will you read it to me?"

"Ok," she agreed. "I go get." The little one turned and sped off on her mission, leaving Eric grinning so wide that his cheeks starting hurting.

-&-

"Well, you made a friend for life," Trip told him. "She loves to read to people."

"She's cute as a button," Eric responded. "Anna was right." Trip watched Eric chuckle and shake his head.

"How's your water holding up?"

"Um… empty again," Eric admitted.

Trip stood up. "Let me have it then. I will get you a refill and an ETA on supper while I am in there. Just watch your fingers if T'Lissa gets back before I do. She bites." He proceeded toward the kitchen, mug in hand.

"Hi, Hun," Trip pasted a smile across his face as he headed for the water pitcher. "Smells great."

"It pleases me that you think so," she told him, with a glance over her shoulder. "I hope Mr. Hess agrees."

"He will," Trip assured her. "Anything I can help with?"

"As far as food preparation, no." T'Pol spoke with finality that brooked no argument. "However-"

A timer dinged and T'Pol released him to leap for the oven. "My bread!" Trip peered over her shoulder while his wife rescued two small loaves that were starting to get just a shade too brown around the edges. "Trip," she began with a careful lack of exasperation in her voice, "I sincerely hope you intend to follow through on your promise to adjust the thermostat on this oven."

He snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am! You can depend on it, ma'am! I shall attend to it first thing in the morning, ma'am!" When T'Pol shot him a look he relaxed and grinned. "Since everything is shut down for the holiday, I have the time now to catch up on all the things around here that I have been meaning to get done. I swear." He held up his hand.

"Perhaps you should return to our guest before T'Lissa decides to entertain him with a demonstration of her alpine abilities," T'Pol suggested pointedly, nudging him out of the way so she could put one of the bread pans on the table.

"She's reading him a book," Trip protested. "C'mon, hun. She doesn't try to climb _everything_. Not _all_ the time."

"You were not present to hear the reverberation when she impacted the floor in the Eldest Mother's library after plummeting from the top of her tallest bookshelf," T'Pol informed him with a chill in her tone. "I have no intention of permitting her to break her neck due to negligence on our part."

"Ok!" Trip threw up both hands in surrender. "I'm going." He grabbed the refilled mug and made a break for it.

&

S'Tor, son of Paleth, the Primary Assistant Secretary to Adjunct Ministerial Assistant Kov, held himself stiffly erect in the waiting area and fought to conceal his vast distaste for the assignment before him. Since his kinsman was still indisposed at the Lonet-quor sanctuary, Minister Kuvak had ordered S'Tor to meet the arriving _Vahklas_ as Kov's designated representative. He would infinitely rather have been ordered to penetrate the security perimeter of the Andorian embassy and steal the designs for their latest weapons research.

However, his duty was clear. He would meet these Vulcans-Without-Logic as he had been ordered. He would deliver the message that had been entrusted to him. And he would do it without compromising his self-respect or the dignity of his clan. Surely the additional three hours of meditation last night would enable him to deal with this. S'Tor had ridden the chartered transport shuttle up to the orbital shipyard in agreeable silence. Unfortunately, the scope of his assignment virtually ensured that the trip back down would not be nearly as conducive to inner serenity.

The docking procedure for the ancient ship was proceeding with some irregularity, largely due to incompatibility of the _Vahklas'_ obsolete docking clamps with the port facilities. Finally, the comm unit buzzed and announced, _"Vahklas has completed docking. Crewmembers are disembarking for scan and decontamination procedures. Once all personnel have disembarked, Vahklass will be towed immediately to the salvage area for disassembly." _

S'Tor firmly suppressed a smile. At last that disgusting blot on the reputation of all Vulcan would finally be removed. The mere existence of the _Vahklas_, and more importantly her blatant contact with that Human ship, had openly proclaimed the message of the V'Tosh Katur to the quadrant at large. Prior to this only Vulcans, and not all Vulcans even, had been aware of the cult. After her rendezvous with _Enterprise_ the Humans had immediately broadcast awareness of the Vulcans-Without-Logic across their planet. Naturally, Humans being incurable gossips, the news had spread like a plague throughout the quadrant to humiliate every right-thinking Vulcan alive. S'Tor clamped his teeth together to prevent them from gritting. All that remained now was to successfully re-integrate the remaining crew into functioning members of society. Then this particular nightmare could be consigned to the darkness of forgotten history, where it belonged.

It was impossible, and inadvisable, to actually meditate in the waiting area. But by gazing out the viewing port at the stars S'Tor was able to achieve a state of mind very close to first level trance. It helped him endure the wait until the comm announced that the V'Tosh Katur were waiting for him in reception room 13.

S'Tor carefully straightened his formal robes and turned to carry out his assignment, blissfully unaware of the Human superstition regarding certain numbers. Even had he been aware of the traditional significance of the number 13 to some Humans, it is unlikely that he would have placed any credence in such illogical nonsense.

&

"No, honey," Trip said tiredly, "you can't have another snack. You had your evening munchie. Besides, you already brushed your teeth. It's time for bed."

"But Sa-da!" T'Lissa pleaded.

"No, T'Lissa," T'Pol told her firmly. The child wilted and her shoulders slumped, plainly burdened down by the unfairness of life and the cruelty of parents. "Proceed to your bedroom and undress. I will follow momentarily and assist you with your gown." The little one sighed mournfully and shuffled off, glancing back once with a woebegone expression. Trip bit his lip to keep from chuckling.

"She is becoming increasingly stubborn about retiring for the night," T'Pol said, looking irritated. Trip shook his head, letting his smile escape.

"Not nearly as fussy as a Human kid, hun," he told her. "Me or any of my siblings would still have been arguing at full volume right now. At least, until Dad started grabbing and dragging." He chuckled.

On a Human T'Pol's expression would barely qualify as a mild wince. On a Vulcan face it was a full scale grimace. "We cannot permit her discipline to deteriorate to that point, Trip. It is neither appropriate nor, ultimately, safe."

"I'm not arguing," Trip raised both hands. "She's as stubborn as her mother and she's got that Vulcan temper too. I'm all for keeping the bluff on her. No dispute here. I just meant that she's not as hard to handle as some kids are." He walked over to the tea service and began heating water for their customary evening cups.

T'Pol gave him the raised Eyebrow of Spousal Aggravation. "Her negative behavior patterns cannot be laid exclusively on her Vulcan heritage, Trip."

"I never said they could," Trip replied around a small cracker. He started laying out a selection of crackers and small veggie slices on a plate while the teapot began to steam. "But I know how to handle the Human stuff. I've had more practice being sneaky than she has, after all. It's when she unleashes those Vulcan temper tantrums that get to me. All I can do then is hang on and pray." He set the plate on the table and reached for a pair of cups.

The corner of T'Pol's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "It is her… sneaky… episodes that I find the most challenging. Those, and her tendency at times to simply rebel for the sake of rebellion itself." Trip sent her a grin and started measuring tea. She sighed and told him, "I had best assist T'Lissa with her bedtime rituals, before she decides to undertake another random act of rebellion. I will return shortly."

&

By the time she returned Trip had two steaming cups of tea poured and an inviting array of tidbits set out between them. T'Pol settled gratefully into her chair and picked up her drink between both hands. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of the hot beverage coating her throat on the way down. "I have often considered the irony - that nurturing a small child and a husband can be more exhausting than carrying out the duties of First Officer."

"Regrets?" Trip's voice sounded semi-serious. T'Pol opened her eyes to find him watching her carefully.

"Never," she told him emphatically. "You should know that by now. If you do not, then I have been distressingly remiss in my responsibility to maintain the harmony of our home."

"Relax, hun," he reached a hand over to stroke her wrist briefly. "I know. I just like to hear it sometimes. I didn't mean to upset you."

T'Pol released her cup with one hand to capture his fingers. "My only regrets are the ones that you know. The mistakes that I made are ones that we have already talked about. If I had not been such a fool-"

"Hush. Shh" Trip placed his fingertips over her lips. "You weren't anywhere near as much a fool as I was," he whispered. "But it's all in the past. Leave it there. We're here, T'Lissa's here. We're together and that's what matters." He leaned over the table and planted a quick peck on her lips. Then he picked up a piece of carrot and offered it to her. She graciously accepted a nibble, and Trip popped the remainder into his mouth.

"Now," Trip said, still crunching the last bit of orange vegetable, "how about you tell me what's really bothering you. I can feel that something is. Even with my pitiful excuse for telepathy, and even with your shields up, I can tell that much. When are you gonna get it through your head that you can't hide it from me when you're worried about something?" He speared a radish with a toothpick and peeled off a sliver with his incisors, suddenly blinking and grabbing a sip of tea. "Whoa. That one has a kick to it."

T'Pol permitted herself a silent internal sigh. He was correct of course. It was an exercise in futility, attempting to conceal her uneasiness from her bonded mate. Currently, and for the last few days, T'Pol's state of mind had not been in a state that came anywhere near approaching equilibrium - ever since she heard the news about the _Vahklas_ coming back to Vulcan. Unfortunately for her efforts, her trellium induced neural damage would have prevented hiding her unease from Trip even if her body language had not already betrayed her.

"What do you wish to discuss?" Her tone was _almost_ perfectly controlled.

"Is that really how you want to play it?" Trip raised his eyebrows and fought a losing battle against a smile.

T'Pol closed her eyes and gave up. "I am… concerned. The V'Tosh Katur are returning to Vulcan."

"So that's it," Trip said flatly. "Tolaris. You're scared I am going to do something crazy and stupid."

T'Pol stiffened ramrod straight. She looked at him with wounded eyes. "You are neither crazy, nor stupid. I would never accuse you of such."

His lips twitched and he couldn't help snorting in amusement. "I won't even try to argue the semantics of that one. But I want you to understand something." He looked at her seriously. "As much as I despise that…" He stopped. "As much as I despise Tolaris, I am not about to do anything that will risk my losing you, T'Lissa, or little Malcolm in there," he pointed at her belly.

Centimeter by centimeter, he watched her muscles start to un-knot. More importantly, he felt her fear begin to slowly fade. T'Pol told him, "You know what happened. I told you the rest of it, every detail, while we were staying with the Eldest Mother. I am at least partly, if not entirely to blame for what happened. I had no excuse for inviting the meld."

"That's right, you didn't," Trip agreed bluntly, with an edge to his voice. "But I have no right to pass judgment on that. We worked through those issues back then too. Remember? We both have pasts. I had old girlfriends. You had Tolaris, and you went through several Pon Farrs before you ever met me." Her expression changed, and he raised his hand. "I know, it isn't supposed to count when you take it for medicine. Besides, you went through more than one on nothing but drugs and meditation because unbonded women can do that sometimes. But my point is we both agreed that whatever happened before we were together is history. Neither of us has any right to judge or complain about anything that the other one did before we came together."

She looked down. "Agreed. I have no right to complain about that… princess. And you have no right to complain about the time I spent with Tolaris." She looked up. "Logically, I agree with this. But my logic is failing me, husband," she told him softly. "I have hurt you so many times. If another of my mistakes causes you to suffer harm, I am certain that I could not endure it."

Trip sighed. "I'm not going to suffer any harm because of what happened back then. Now, if he starts anything this time… well. I might just have to hurt the son of a … mother. But you didn't belong to me back then, and as much as I would love to skin him alive over a slow fire, I won't. Not for that."

Trip instantly found himself trying to suck in some air while in the grip of the tightest hug his wife had ever given him. He returned it as tightly as he dared, given her condition. "I love you too, Honey," he whispered almost inaudibly, hoping rather plaintively that she let go before he passed out.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note:** Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**Description:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled". I thought it was done. I really did. But a few snips and bits were still hanging loose, so I scribbled off some scenes to tie them up. Here they are. This is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess . It picks up immediately after the other one stops.

This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

If you want to go back and start at the beginning, the series runs as follows:

The Road Once Traveled

(Just type http : / followed by the address shown here. Remember to delete spaces and/or line breaks):

1 - For Want Of A Nail

triptpolers . houseoftucker .

com /fiction/author_blacknblue_want_of_a_nail . shtml

2 - In The Cold Of The Night

triptpolers . houseoftucker .

com /fiction/author_blacknblue_in_the_cold_of_the_night . shtml

3 - Father To The Man

triptpolers . houseoftucker .

com /fiction/author_blacknblue_father_to_the_man . shtml

4 - Purgatory

www . fanfiction .

net /s/ 5582286 /1/ Purgatory

5 - Hess + Kov

www. fanfiction .

net /s/ 5521944/1/ Hess_Kov

**Chapter 2**

"How does the robe look?" Trip fretted. "In the back I mean. Is it hanging straight?"

"It is quite acceptable," T'Pol told him serenely. "Your appearance is flawless, husband."

"Indeed, Charles," Lorat said. Calmly of course. "There is no cause for concern. This meeting is a routine matter."

"Yeah. Sure." Trip closed his mouth and recalled the last time he was face to face with Koss.

"…_He could feel the rough leather of the knife grip in his sweating hand, and see the naked fear in the Vulcan's eyes. Trip pressed the blade against his throat and flicked his eyes toward Koss's companion. "One move from you and I carve him a new mouth..."_

"Right. Just a routine matter."

Trip walked across the waiting room to look out the second floor viewing window that oversaw the assembly floor. The Human portion of the joint Human/Vulcan operation was shut down for the holiday break. Only one light in five was left on, leaving ominous looking patches of gloomy shadow splotching the floor of the silent factory. The prototype warp core on its raised dais bulked huge in the dimness, lurking in the center of the abandoned space like some huge cave bear, gone into hibernation to await the return of its makers. All around the massive beast, the floor was crowded with control terminals and stacks of spare parts and materials.

"I appreciate your being willing to meet us here," Trip turned away from the window to address Lorat and his companion, Sulden. "It makes things a lot simpler."

Sulden inclined his head. "It was no inconvenience, Charles. Particularly for family. Most particularly since the directors of Clan Tren'nik'lok'hlt'li'jan'mrifloj'hed'fr'dac took it upon themselves to hold this bi-annual meeting of the stockholders without the courtesy of notifying you."

"Yeah," Trip pursed his lips and looked at T'Pol. "I suppose it would be considered inappropriate for me to beat their heads into the table in retaliation?"

"Unfortunately, yes," she returned with a deadpan expression. Trip sighed and looked back at the two old men and their elevated eye hair.

"T'Pol is kind of like my cultural attaché," he told them seriously. "She's constantly at work trying to train me in proper behavior. Things like, 'don't drool on the rugs,' 'don't shoot the neighbors without a good reason,' stuff like that."

Lorat remarked, "Eldest Mother T'Para advised us that your sense of humor was somewhat distorted, at best. I see that her penchant for understatement remains intact." He turned his head toward the main entrance. An instant later the other Vulcans followed suit, so Trip headed down the hallway under the conviction that his company had arrived.

He was correct. Eric Hess came through the door slightly less exhausted than he had been the night before, but just as sweat soaked. "Oh man, Trip," he gasped. "How did you ever get used to this?"

"Get used to it? I never did," Trip told him. "I just got bored with complaining about it. Come on back and get some water."

"Yessir," Eric agreed hoarsely. He straightened when the three Vulcans came into view. "Oh, excuse me."

"Greetings, Eric Hess," T'Pol said gravely, offering him the ta'al. "I present to you two of the Elders of my clan, Lorat and Sulden."

Eric gamely made a stab at offering the split fingered salute, with indifferent success. "Um… greetings? I am honored to meet you both. I, uh, apologize for my appearance. I wasn't expecting anyone here but Trip. I mean, Captain Tucker. We were supposed to tour the factory so I wore casual clothing."

"I told them about our plans, Eric," Trip handed Eric a tall mug. "I'm sorry to throw a wrench into things at the last minute. Seems that keeps happening to you ever since you got here. If it's all right, T'Pol will give you the tour instead of me. She knows at least as much about what's happening here as I do, since she's been here all along while I spent half my time shuttling back and forth between here and Earth while we got this place set up."

Eric took the mug away from his mouth and sighed in relief. "Sure thing. Um…" He looked curious but shut up. Trip chuckled.

"It's complicated. Long story a little shorter, I own a piece of the K'Haril shipyards. The directors of the company that I own a piece of don't like me, and they called a surprise stockholders meeting for today without notifying me. I only know about it because T'Pol's family has spies there. So now I have to rush over and make sure that our interests are protected." He chewed the corner of his lip and watched Eric process this.

"You mean," Eric said slowly, "that you own a piece of the very shipyard that is going to be building the engines that Starfleet Command assigned you to design? Isn't that… I mean… is that… legal?"

"On Vulcan, yes," Trip told him seriously. "T'Pol's clan also owns a fair sized chunk of the same shipyards. Naturally, it's in everyone's best interest if we all look out for each other. Now, I know the technical end of things. That part is fine. Where I am weak is the legal and economic background, especially in terms of how the game is played under Vulcan rules. Which is where these two gentlemen come in," he gestured toward the Elders, who inclined their heads. "Sulden is the senior legal guy for T'Pol's clan. Lorat is a bean counter extraordinaire. They're coming with me to make sure that I don't get rooked."

"O…kay." Eric looked doubtful. "If you're sure that this is not going to cause problems. What does Starfleet Command think of this?"

"It is none of their concern," Sulden spoke up. "This is a private family matter, involving personal property owned by individual members of the family, as well as the clan in common. All persons involved are Vulcan citizens and Earth has no jurisdiction over any of this."

"It's just the way things are done here, Eric," Trip tried to explain. "I reacted the same way when I first came here. But it's not like it sounds. There are a lot of checks and balances built into the system to keep everyone honest. Believe me. Bottom line, everyone watches everyone else like a hawk. Nobody dares to try any funny business because as soon as they do, the whole system is designed to cave in on top of them like a mountain."

Eric blinked. "I'm glad I don't have to understand it. Good luck anyway. Knock 'em dead." They traded shoulder slaps and Trip headed out, followed by a bemused looking pair of Vulcans.

S'Tor, Primary Assistant Secretary to Adjunct Ministerial Assistant Kov, waited patiently while Council Minister Kuvak's receptionist announced his arrival. Upon receiving clearance to enter, S'Tor straightened himself and strode forward to present his report.

"Be seated, krei," the minister told him in a gracious, albeit distracted tone. Kuvak was standing at a side table sorting PADDs and separating papers. "I will be with you in 7.3 minutes."

S'Tor obediently took a chair and folded his hands. As always when visiting this office, he welcomed the opportunity to peruse the minister's art collection. In particular, Minister Kuvak had spent years amassing an impressive selection of representational graphics created by various races. S'Tor found it fascinating to note the variability in visual perception among the Vulcanoid species of the quadrant.

He rotated the chair slightly to gain a view of his favorite graphic, a representation in glass of the Grahora Falls on Betazed, and noticed a new acquisition. S'Tor blinked and looked closely. Then he suddenly found himself standing in front of the picture without conscious intent.

"Compelling, is it not?" Kuvak's voice came from across the room and broke his concentration. S'Tor turned, discomfited.

"Indeed. May I inquire as to the artist?" He turned back to look at the picture again despite his best intentions.

Footsteps announced that the minister had crossed the room to join him, but S'Tor was unable to look away. "The artist is my son's wife, Anna. She created it using Terran oil-based polymers applied on cloth. The subject is a view of Shi'Kahr, as seen from the edge of Telo mesa, at midnight by the light of T'Khut."

The colors were incredible. S'Tor moved closer, only to find that the individual details seem to smear into chaos. When he stepped back the picture returned to focus. At arm's length the level of detail appeared almost photographic.

Knife-edged shadows of stygian black brought eye-hurting contrast to the glowing orange and brown and yellow of the desert. In the distance, the barrier guards of Shi'Kahr shone with subdued brilliance in the reflected light of Vulcan's sister planet. But their color was nothing remotely similar to what S'Tor had seen all his life. Beyond the perimeter barrier, graceful towers reached for the night sky - looking almost alien in their transformed hues and shadows.

The night sky that overarched the scene was crowded beyond belief with more stars than S'Tor could have imagined. It was nearly impossible to perceive the darkness of space between them, so many were they and so brightly did they shine.

And finally, T'Khut. She was reborn, flaming like the living goddess that the ancients had believed her to be. Their sister planet rode the night sky wearing the scars of battle that criss-crossed her face, and the fiery mountains that spewed molten fury were plain to see across the planet's surface.

"This... is how the night appears to Human eyes?" S'Tor asked slowly.

"So I am informed," Kuvak assured him. "Captain Tucker has also examined the painting, and he confirms that it presents a close representation of the Vulcan night as seen by Humans."

"I would..." S'Tor shook his head, feeling somewhat dazed. "I ask pardon, Minister."

"Granted," Kuvak made a slight gesture of negation. "Your reaction is not unusual. I was quite gratified when Anna presented it to me."

"I can well imagine," S'Tor replied, following Kuvak back to the desk. They both took seats.

Kuvak looked pensive. "The city art repository has requested permission to display the painting for a year. Logically, I recognize that it would be the proper thing to do. Yet I find myself curiously reluctant to let it leave my possession. Perhaps after I have had a bit more time to internalize the salient aspects of the work, I may find myself more amenable to the suggestion."

"A work of such complexity will require substantial time and meditation to fully assimilate," S'Tor offered. "Perhaps Anna would be willing to prepare a different graphic for display at the repository?"

Kuvak looked startled. "The idea had not occurred to me. It is a superb suggestion, and one that I will certainly pass along to her."

S'Tor inclined his head. "I am here to serve."

"What progress has been made with the crew of Vahklas?" the Minister wanted to know.

S'Tor presented his data PADD to Kuvak and began report, "As directed, the personnel of Vahklas were segregated for individual screening - both physical and mental. The information provided by Chief Minister T'Pau was accurate. Three members of the crew are suffering from Pa'anar syndrome. The senior pilot, Tolaris, suffers the most advanced case and is seriously impaired."

Kuvak maintained a rigidly intact expression of indifference. Of course. "Treatment has been arranged?"

"Yes," S'Tor assured him. "A senior priest is en route from the retreat at Mt. Seleya to perform the initial meld. Afterward, they will be placed in the mental ward at Shi'Kahr University Hospital for continued treatment under the supervision of the healer-melders."

Kuvak told him, "Satisfactory. What of the rest of the crew?"

"Their physical condition ranges from optimum to slightly sub-optimum," S'Tor told him. "But none of them carry any communicable hazards. The process of integrating them into society is underway." He paused and looked uncomfortable. "Several of Assistant Minister Kov's former colleagues in the engineering section aboard Vahklas have made a specific request."

Kuvak tensed faintly. "What request?"

Speaking with careful precision, S'Tor said, "They wish to apply for employment with the Humans. Since their most senior engineering member was offered a position aboard a Human starship, the remaining Vahklas engineers speculate that they might be able to obtain positions with the Human's warp upgrade project."

Kuvak looked thoughtful. "A surprisingly logical plan. I will forward a request to Captain Tucker to meet with me on the matter. Charles has proven himself to be a true follower of the IDIC principle. Moreover, he and his fellow Humans will inherently have a high level of tolerance for the... emotional surges the V'Tosh Katur exhibit."

"I will inform them of this, Minister," S'Tor said grimly. Kuvak raised two fingers.

"There is no requirement for you to interface with them further, S'Tor," Kuvak told him. "I will arrange a direct laison through my own office. You have done your duty well. I will report as much to my son when he returns."

S'Tor stood and bowed. "It is most agreeable to hear this, Minister. If I am needed further, do not hesitate to call upon me." He turned and left the office, determined to find an appropriate place to meditate immediately. It was absolutely not acceptable for a civil servant, especially at his elevated level, to feel an almost irresistable urge to burst into song.

"This is one hell of a place for a business meeting," Trip declared, banking the air car and coming in for a landing at the edge of the mountain's ledge.

"Indeed," Lorat agreed disapprovingly. "It is a most inapprorpiate venue."

"Not entirely, krei," Sulden disputed. "The corporation originated as a consortium between caravans, with this mountain fortress being their designated meeting place for the yearly division of assets."

"That was 4600 years ago, krei," Lorat pointed out. "The company has been operating out of modern offices in K'Haril, adjacent to the shipyards themselves, for sixteen centuries."

"Doesn't look like there'll be much in the way of amenities in there," Trip remarked, shutting off the engine. "Like climate control or running water. Most likely they picked this spot to run off the pesky Human intruder."

"Beyond question you are correct, Charles," Lorat didn't fume. Vulcans don't fume. But if he were Human he would have been fuming.

"I recommend that you fill a water container, Charles," Sulden suggested. "Perhaps you might also wish to drink your fill before we enter."

"Good thought," Trip agreed. He opened the car's built in cooler and pulled out three bottles of water. He cracked the top on one and started draining it.

Getting into the fortress was a pain. After examining Trip's identification every way possible, and running Trip himself through every biometric scan known to Vulcan-kind, the guard grudgingly acknowledged his right to enter. But he tried to stop Lorat and Sulden.

"This meeting is for shareholders only," He side stepped and blocked the gateway.

Trip was about fed up already, and they weren't even inside yet. But since that was the whole point he couldn't let it show. Instead he smiled and said, "They are shareholders. This morning I personally made them a gift of one share each. And they are here at my personal invitation. Read the bylaws. As a shareholder owning more than 10% of the corporation's voting stock, I hold the irrefutable right to invite up to three witness/advisors to any meeting I choose." He let the smile broaden. "Now get out of the way or I'll personally insert a formal report of incompetence into your employment file."

The guard actually glowered as he stepped aside, which Trip chalked up as a new one. He had never seen a Vulcan glowering before. Look irritated, certainly. Sneer, on rare occasions. Glare, yes, once or twice. But never a full-fledged glower. _"It was worth the trip just for that,"_ he reflected.

The main hall wasn't what Trip expected. He had been looking forward to something like an old English castle, with a big main entrace and a tall ceiling. Instead they entered a low roofed passageway that had been roughly stacked together out of native stone. It didn't even look like mortar was used. Big slabs overhead provided a roof of sorts.

The far end of the passage led to a winding stairway carved out of solid rock that hugged the side of the mountain. It was steep, and narrow, and completely exposed to sun and wind. Ater five minutes Trip called a break to wheeze. His companions waited with no sign of impatience.

"Guys," he panted. "Please... don't take... this the wrong... way but... I really hate... your planet." He bent over and grabbed his knees while sweat beaded and dripped off his face.

"It is also unfortunate that the meeting is being held at midday," Lorat said flatly, looking up the trail. "Would you prefer to be carried, Charles?"

Trip hacked a laugh and straightened up. "Not while I'm conscious. I made it through the Forge on that damn Kahs-Wahn. I can make it up this hill. I'm just a little slow, that's all." He turned and resumed trudging.

"I am reminded," Sulden said. "I am told that it is Human custom to offer congratulations to someone who has successfully achieved a goal after great effort. Completing the Kahs-Wahn was a respectable accomplishment on your part, Charles."

"Indeed," Lorat agreed.

"Thanks," Trip said shortly. "Almost didn't. Barely made it." He saved the rest of his air for climbing.

A cave at the top of the mountain had been hollowed out and smoothed into a meeting hall. The original entrance had also been supplemented by cutting window-like openings into the sidewalls of the cavern at its thinner points. This, plus the burning torches and firebeasts, allowed sufficient light for Vulcan eyes to function.

Trip had no problem at all with the lighting. The torches and firebeasts however, added a little extra warmth that he really didn't need. The only gap in the two benches was on the far side of the table, between two flaming bowls and in front of a firebeast. He sighed and headed that way.

Sulden and Lorat entered right behind him, causing an uncomfortable stirring among the gathered stockholders. Apparently many of the Vulcans present recognized Trip's companions and were less than overjoyed to see them.

For his part, Trip was less than overjoyed to see Koss sitting at the table, right next to the Moderator. Next to Koss was some old guy that Trip had never seen before. Then two more middle-aged men who looked vaguely familar. On the far side of the table, facing the full glare of the sunlit entrance, were three young men who had an expression of "what am I doing here?" stamped on their faces.

When Trip sat down Lorat grabbed the firebeast and carried it to the far end of the cave, while Sulden relocated the torches. Disapproval marked several faces, but no one offered a peep of objection. Lorat and Sulden took positions standing behind Trip's shoulders with their hands folded together, in the position that Trip privately thought of as "Vulcan parade rest".

The geezer at the head of the table, whose name was... Trip couldn't remember it to save his ass... clacked a rock on the surface and spoke. "Since all of the shareholders who have served notice of attendance have finally arrived," he looked straight at Trip, "this meeting will come to order."

Trip raised two fingers immediately, before anyone else had a chance to say or do anything. The geezer... Stark, that was his name, looked around but could see no valid excuse for not recognizing him. "Shareholder Charles Tucker, speak."

"Two points, Moderater," Trip told him calmly. "First point. Your initial implication of tardiness is inaccurate and illogical, since the meeting was not scheduled to begin until precisely noon, and it still lacks three minutes and... eleven seconds until that time." Stark's face darkened. "Second point. I was not notified of this meeting by any official channel. I formally accuse the board of an egregious and malicious violation of the corporation bylaws, and I hereby serve notice that this violation has been reported to the Security Directorate."

**CRACK.**

The stone hit the table's surface like thunder. "You deliberate attempt to disrupt this meeting is sufficient cause to remove you-"

"Incorrect." Sulden's voice sliced through the room and drew all eyes to him. "Charles Tucker's first point is valid, but irrelevant to the business of this meeting. His second point is both valid and relevant. Since Charles Tucker was awarded his shares in this corporation by the Security Directorate as direct victim's compensation for criminal attack, it is certainly within his rights to notify the Security Directorate if he has evidence of a conspiracy to deny him full access to that compensation."

Total silence enveloped the room. Trip kept his eyes on the Moderator, as was proper ettiquette. But from the corner of his field of view he noticed at least one of the middle-aged guys looking troubled. Koss was turning an interesting shade of emerald-brown.

"You have not been recognized," the Moderator finally managed. "Your remarks will be stricken."

"Doesn't matter," Trip said conversationally. "This is Sulden, chief counsel and legal advisor to T'Para, Eldest Mother of Clan... _"Here we go. Please, don't let me screw it up."_...Sh'hiran'..lin'iijyliunh'...rei'iy'iukn'...hy'wen'...lhia'...ehrm'n. His companion is Lorat, chief accounting officer for the clan.

"Your ongoing pattern of unwarranted and unprovoked hostility toward my client has been duly noted, and will be added to the report that is currently on file with the Security Directorate," Sulden told the Moderator. "Now, since your choice of meeting venue was obviously chosen to inflict maximum discomfort on my client, we will depart."

He placed a standard Fleet issue datacorder on the table. "I will require a full and complete recording, including all audio and visual input, in addition to all documentation of this meeting, to be provided to my office no later than sunset tomorrow."

"Unacceptable." Koss was seething. "This is the regular bi-annual meeting. If your client is physically incapable of attending, it is not the responsibility of this board to undertake extraordinary efforts on his behalf."

Trip closed his eyes and his mind. He pictured T'Para's meditation garden, with her sparkling fountain. Cool silence. Soft breaths.

"Ordinarily you would be correct," Sulden corrected Koss. "However given the willful disregard for law and custom that has been displayed by this board, I believe we can make a compelling case before the High Council that such efforts are justified."

"Why would the High Council be interested in a routine stockholder's meeting?" The question, out of order, came from the same middle-aged Vulcan that Trip had noticed looking troubled earlier.

"Shareholder Jorin, you have not been recognized," the Moderator blustered.

"Nor was Shareholder Koss," he returned bluntly, "yet he was permitted to speak unhindered. I repeat my question for Sulden. Why would the High Council care about this?" The three oldest members and Koss all winced.

"Were you not aware," Sulden surveyed him curiously, "that Shareholder Captain Charles Tucker is also in charge of the Human warp upgrade project? Further, that it was only through Shareholder Captain Tucker's intercession that Starfleet agreed to have the upgraded Human engines built at K'Haril?"

Jorin's face tightened. "I was not aware of the last part of your statement." He looked at Trip.

Trip shrugged. "It was in the best interest of my people. Both of my peoples." He looked at the Moderator. "Or so I thought at the time."

Jorin said tightly, "I will personally see to it that your request is honored." He looked toward the head of the table. "This clan has already been dishonored through the actions of Subminister V'Rald. I, for one, refuse to permit further dishonor to accrue. You will receive your recording and all pertinent documentation prior to sundown tomorrow."

For once, Trip didn't feel like the least popular person in the room. Every eye from Clan Tren'nik'lok'hlt'li'jan'mrifloj'hed'fr'dac was burning a hole through poor Jorin, who didn't seem very worried about it.

Lorat tapped Trip's shoulder lightly and quickly. The Human came to himself. Time to make a break for it. He quietly stood up and the trio got halfway around the table before anyone noticed.

"And thus, the vaunted Human warrior retreats," Koss growled sourly.

It happened in a fraction of a second - before Trip could finish inhaling. The only thing that kept the meeting cave from turning into an bloodpit was T'Para's long hours of patient tutelage. Trip stopped himself before he made the second step toward his enemy's throat.

He closed his eyes and half turned, throwing his mind desperately in the modified form of the Disciplines that he, T'Para, and T'Pol had hammered out between them for his use. He sucked strength from the matebond the way he had drained water from the seep he discovered on his survival test. All external sensory input shut down, his mind was turned inward. Nothing mattered but the fire in his blood, and the need to cool it before it reached critical mass again.

Finally he opened his eyes, to find everyone in the cave watching him. Sulden and Lorat were flanking him on either side, ready to either restrain him or back him up as required. He felt a sudden surge of affection for the pair.

Koss had spun on the bench and was sitting ready, with his eyes glittering. It suddenly hit Trip. _"He wants it. But he wants me to start it."_

Not surprising, really. Trip had humiliated him at T'Pol's Gathering, and then he had sent his uncle to prison. And Koss was a fool, so naturally he wanted a piece of Trip. The face that Trip was a trained Starfleet officer with more combat experience than deskbound Koss was capable of imagining would never be able to penetrate his ethno-centric head.

So Trip smiled graciously. "Retreat? I was not aware that this was a battlefield. I came here to discuss lawful business. Does your remark perhaps indicate a desire to declare war?"

Koss stiffened and the Moderator broke in, "No. Koss made an unfortunate attempt at emulating the Human custom of joking. It appears that he was unsucessful. No hostility was intended or implied." Stark looked warily at Trip's Vulcan escort, neither of whom let anything get past their poker faces.

Jorin weighed in thoughtfully, looking at Koss, "It would be in the best interest of this corporation, and the greater clan itself, for all parties present to concentrate their efforts on production rather than bickering over past events." He turned to Trip and offered the ta'al. "It has been both agreeable and enlightening to meet you, Captain Tucker. I wish you peace and long life."

"Um. Live long and prosper," Trip told him, holding up his hand. "I regret that I am unable to make the proper gesture due to... an injury I suffered some time ago." Jorin inclined his head.

They were halfway down the stairway before Trip began to get his shaking under control. When the reached the air car he slumped against the shaded side for a moment, just gasping and sweating. Lorat keyed the door open and helped him inside.

"Thanks, guys," Trip sat back and dug out a fresh bottle of water from the onboard cooler. "I never would have made it without you two. Especially... never mind. Would either of you like something liquid?"

Sulden glanced at Lorat and told him, "We are both adequately hydrated at the moment. However, you should certainly take the time to replenish your bodies fluid and electrolyte balance."

Trip nodded and cracked the cap. He upended the half liter bottle and drained it in one long, slow swallow. The two Vulcans looked first amazed, and then slightly alarmed.

"Are you unwell, Charles?" Lorat wanted to know. "The hospital is quite near."

Trip chuckled. "I'm fine. Or I will be fine. I just need some time here in Human normal temperature and a chance to get some water in me. That meeting room was starting to drain me pretty dry."

"It was entirely inappropriate for the board to arrange the meeting in such a location," Sulden said, with hooded eyes. "Would you like one of us to drive?"

"Feel free." Trip slid over to the co-pilot seat and let Lorat move into driver's position. He dropped the empty into the trash box and pulled out another water bottle. This time he dropped in a couple salt tabs before pouring half of it down his throat.

"Are you quite sure you do not require medical attention, Charles?" Sulden persisted. "I have never seen anyone intake so much water so quickly."

Trip chuckled. "Earth climate varies a lot, so my people have adapted for different extremes. My ancestors lived in a cold and damp region. I don't handle dry heat very well."

"I confess to surprise at the degree of open hostility exhibited," Lorat offered as they took off. "It seems most illogical."

Trip pulled the bottle away from his lips. "They're still pissed about what happened at the Gathering. On top of putting V'Rald away. Nobody likes getting busted. Getting busted twice because of the same guy has got to be rubbing them raw."

"Those matters have been settled," Lorat stated. "The issue of violating the _Tehlp'hlat_ standards has been dealt with. V'Rald has been tried and convicted. The logical course of action would be to consign the issues to the unfortunate past and concentrate on building an effective working relationship."

"I get the impression that Clan Tren... the Clan Koss belongs to didn't dive headfirst into the Kirshara like you guys did," Trip said in amusement. "They want payback."

"Pay? For what, Charles?" Lorat sounded confused. "What did you purchase and fail to pay for?"

"Sorry, Human slang. Payback means revenge," Trip said. Both Vulcans flinched.

"I sincerely hope that we have progressed beyond the point of such petty obesessions," Lorat said.

"Unfortunately not," Sulden told him. "I wish I could believe that. However my occupation precludes such an optimistic worldview. A distressingly large number of cases are brought into the court system for nothing more nor less than simple revenge."

"Illogical and counterproductive," Lorat said tiredly.

"But understandable," Trip noted. "Or at least, I think I understand them. Emotional motivation is something I don't have any trouble wrapping my mind around."

"A useful skill," Sulden told him. "I noted during the negotiations that your ability to interface with the Andorians was remarkably effective."

Trip snorted. "Thanks. I think. Andorians are highly charged even by Human standards. It would do them all a world of good to take up meditating." He finished the second bottle and dropped it in the disposal. "How many... five. That makes five since we left the factory. I better stop for a while."

"I was favorably impressed, Charles," Lorat spoke impassively, keeping his eyes on his flying, "by your own self-control during the meeting." Trip sighed.

"I am of the opinion," Sulden offered, "that Koss was deliberately attempting to provoke you into an open display of anger. Perhaps even violence. You did well, young man." His tone and phrasing was that of an Elder to a younger clan member, and Trip suddenly felt like a school kid being given a gold star.

"I...um." Trip cleared his throat. "Thanks. That means a lot. I've worked hard on learning how to keep my temper." He looked out the side window. "I knew Koss would be there, so I had time to get my mind set for it. I had to be ready to block whatever he threw at me."

"You anticipated his attempt at provocation?" Lorat asked.

Trip did not answer immediately. "I figured he might try to piss me off. But either way, I had to be ready to keep control." The two Vulcans were silent for a brief time.

"I would seem that you and Koss both retain some residual animosity towards each other," Sulden spoke delicately.

"I wanna kill him," Trip said bluntly. "I'm never gonna stop wanting to kill him. Not while I'm alive." Silence resumed.

Lorat said, with exquisite care, "The Eldest Mother is an acknowledged expert in-"

"She already spent months working with me and T'Pol," Trip interrupted him. "She's the reason I'm not in a Starfleet stockade right now."

"I see," Lorat said. He adjusted their heading silently.

"Is there evidence," Sulden finally asked, "that Koss was in collusion with his uncle in the attempts on you and your family's lives?"

"That's not it," Trip told him tiredly. "You both know about T'Pol's..." He locked his teeth. "What happened when..." He hissed out his breath.

"Charles?" Sulden sounded concerned.

Trip shook his head. "You both know about T'Pol's... wedding." He forced it out. The two Vulcans exchanged a swift glance.

"Yes," Lorat told him. "We know."

"I stood there," Trip said, looking out the window and seeing nothing. "I just stood there and did nothing. I didn't say a word or raise my hand. While _that son of bitch took my woman!_" He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His knuckles grew white on the arm rests.

"Your actions were honorable, Charles," Sulden assured him quietly. "You choice to withdraw was based on your concern for T'Pol's welfare."

"_It meant nothing!"_

The words hung in the air like a bare blade. Trip kept his eyes closed and concentrated on re-establishing control. "There was no point in it. T'Less made a break for the Forge. Koss' family wasn't going to protect her anyway. It was all a lie. I gave up my woman, my self-respect..." He stopped to breathe hard.

"Their dishonor does not detract from your decision, Charles," Sulden said. "T'Pol will always remember what you did."

"Yeah," Trip said bitterly. "She'll always remember that I stood by like a nutless wonder, too cowardly to fight for her. That's what she'll remember." He turned to look out the window. "If I knew then about the right of _gasrak_ challenge, Koss would never have lived long enough to see the ceremony. But I didn't. So now I get to spend the rest of my life remembering how I stood there and let that scum sucking son of pig strut up and_ take my woman away from me_ while I stood there and _did nothing_." He was shaking.

"Have you discussed this with T'Pol," Lorat asked him. "I sincerely doubt that she regards it the way that you describe."

"Doesn't matter how she regards it," Trip told them. "It's how it FEELS to me." Silence fell again. It stayed quiet for a very long time. The spires of Shi'Kahr were coming into distant view when Sulden spoke again.

"Is there any assistance that we can offer, Charles?"

Trip was leaning back against the headrest. He didn't move when he answered. "No. My mind knows that I did what was ethically right. My brain tells me that I did the morally correct thing. But this has nothing to do with my brain. This is down in my balls. This is in my blood. My mind says one thing, but my instinct tells me that I let that..." He stopped to sigh. "My instinct tells me that I let another man take my woman away from me and didn't even try to stop him. My instincts tell me I acted like a spineless coward. And all the meditation, all the pep talks in the world aren't going to change that. Even if I killed the sonuvabitch, it wouldn't change anything. The memory would still be there."

"Yet ultimately," Lorat pointed out, "she chose you."

"Because he threw her away," Trip said. "Not because she chose me. Because he threw her away, and then she realized that she had bonded me by accident. Not because she deliberately chose me. She didn't. She just ended up with me by default."

The bitterness crept up into his voice again and he rubbed his forehead. "I could kill him. I have friends who would be willing to help me. The Andorians think they owe me an honor debt. Even some of my old shipmates would probably be willing to help me. I could make it happen. Probably even get away with it. But what difference would it make?"

"If you do not desire to remain with T'Pol, you are not required to do so," Sulden said flatly.

Trip coughed out a strangled laugh. "Right. Severing the bond would probably kill me. Even if it didn't, you think I'm going to abandon my babies? But the thing is... I don't want to leave her." He smiled painfully. "That's the most humiliating part. I still love her. I still want her, even after all of this. Most of the time I don't even think about it. I try with everything I am not to let it bother me. But sometimes... like when I see that rat licking, goat humping son of..." He stopped. "Like when I see Koss, It all comes back and hits me like a club between the eyes again."

"We will be landing in 4.7 minutes Trip," Lorat told him. "Which destination would you prefer? The factory port or the main city terminal?"

Trip rubbed his forehead with both hands. "City terminal please, if you don't mind. I think I want to visit the Terran embassy. I could use workout and a swim to get rid of some tension."

"A logical suggestion," Lorat turned the aircar and headed for the center of the city.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled". I thought it was done. I really did. But a few snips and bits were still hanging loose, so I scribbled off some scenes to tie them up. Here they are. This is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess . It picks up immediately after the other one stops. I'm afraid this one is going to be a bit longer than the previous story though. Three chapters and I'm just getting started.

This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

A/N: In line with the above, I was recently reminded that Linda/Bineshii was the one who originated the idea of Kuvak being the father of Kov. I do not know who first came up with the idea of Vulcan pregnancies being about a year long. It wasn't me. But I'm stealing the idea. Thanks, whoever you are. If/when I manage to dig up their name, I will post an official mention.

Chapter 3

T'Pol quite logically started the tour with Eric Hess on the far side of the factory and worked her way across, aiming toward the exit. They reached the prototype warp core at about the halfway point. Eric looked up at the gargantuan construction and whistled in admiration. "Anna told me about this, but I really never understood before just how huge one of these things is."

T'Pol's voice held a tinge of satisfaction when she said, "This is the largest and most powerful engine ever constructed by Humans. When completed, it will be capable of a standard cruising speed of warp 6.5, with an estimated maximum speed of warp 7.2."

"Yeowch." Eric ran a hand through his hair. "No wonder Anna was jumping up and down at the chance to work on this project." He looked at his combination hostess/tour guide. "When my sister's excited her voice gets louder and starts to raise in pitch. The last time she started telling me about this project I feared for the glassware in all directions."

"Anna's enthusiastic support has been invaluable," T'Pol assured him. "Would you like- uh!" She went to her knees, clutching her temples.

Eric froze in shock for a second. Then he leaped to support her. An instant later he remembered the warnings against touching Vulcans, but it was too late by then. T'Pol didn't seem to notice anyway. Whatever had hit her, she wasn't noticing much of anything. He carefully eased her over to the floor and peeled out of his shirt to make a pad for her head. Eric had no idea how to take a Vulcan's pulse, and even less idea of what a proper pulse would sound like anyway.

"Now what?" He started to panic. No comm unit jumped out and waved when he stood to scan the immediate vicinity. The nearest place to call for help was probably in the main office. Did he dare to leave her here? Did he have a choice? She wasn't bleeding or clutching her belly, so maybe she wasn't in labor. Maybe. _"Please, don't let her be in labor!" _He prayed fervently.

"Eric... Hess." T'Pol's voice came weak and shaky, but Eric wanted to dance to it. He dropped beside her and helped her sit up.

"What happened? Are you going to be all right? What can I do?" She raised a hand to stop him and fought to get words out.

"I... will be...fine. I need to rest. It seems I over... estimated my... stamina." She paused to breathe. "Please forgive the inconvenience. I regret that I will be unable to complete the tour. However, at a later-"

"Oh for fu-... for goodness sake," Eric said impatiently. "To hell with the tour. Let's get you someplace you can rest. Here, let me help you up, Mrs. Tucker." Once she was standing again, T'Pol seemed to stabilize and began to display signs of chagrin.

"Being pregnant seems to drain more of my strength than I had anticipated," she said defensively. "I did not expect... I was not expecting..."

Eric broke in, "Look, Mrs. Tucker. I hope you don't get offended, but every Vulcan I ever met seems to think that they were some kind of robot. Invulnerable and immune to pain. Come on, flesh and blood has limits, even Vulcan flesh and blood. Let's get you back to the office."

T'Pol refused water but she did agree to resting on the couch in Trip's office. She tried to convince Eric that she would be fine but he insisted on remaining available in the front reception area until Trip returned from his meeting. "I believe you," he told her stubbornly. "But it's better to be extra safe." T'Pol finally gave up with an air of one who knew when a Human was beyond reasoning with.

Eric was deep into an English translation of the Kirshara when he heard footsteps coming down the entrance passageway. He was surprised to see the two old Vulcans he had met earlier arriving Human-less.

"Hi... Live long and prosper. Where's Trip?" Eric offered his version of the ta'al and a curious look.

The younger one - rather, the not quite as old looking one - told him, "Charles elected to visit the Terran embassy on the return trip. Sulden and I have returned to provide T'Pol with a briefing on the results of the meeting." He didn't quite ask Eric to get out, but his companion did cast a meaningful glance at the door.

"T'Pol is resting in Trip's office," he told them. "She had a dizzy spell earlier. Seems ok now, but I wanted to wait until somebody else came back before I left."

Two eyebrows lifted in synchronized motion. "We will evaluate her condition," Sulden promised. Eric nodded and put the Kirshara back on the shelf.

"Ok, then. I'll be going. Tell T'Pol that she and Trip are welcome to call anytime. I'm just going to be staring at the wall until Anna gets back anyway. Nice meeting you." He waved casually and headed out, sighing and wondering what to do with the rest of the day.

T'Pol heard Anna's brother depart. Routine Human hospitality would ordinarily have compelled her to rise and offer farewells. However she decided for once to take unfair advantage of her condition.

It had been more than a Vulcan year since she had felt such an intense flash of rage through the bond. For an instant T'Pol had been certain that her adun was under physical attack. Then she had seen the vision of Koss, and felt him drawing strength to sustain the Disciplines. Then she knew.

She could reach the first level of meditation while she rested in Trip's office. No further. It was enough to restore and maintain her own equilibrium. With her eyes closed she felt the cool air of the embassy blowing over her husband's skin. Then the welcome ache of exercise flowing through his muscles. He was purging the negative emotion using Human methods. Good. No doubt he would visit the swimming pool afterward. By the time he finished, most if not all of the emergency response chemicals would be flushed from his system.

"_He will never truly forgive me."_ It was not a new thought.

Her clan elders stopped in the outer room. Sulden, the eldest, quietly said, "We are here, T'Pol." They waited. If she did not respond within a reasonable length of time, they would conclude that she required solitude and depart. Or, since Eric Hess had reported her to be ill, they might take it upon themselves to confirm her safety before departing. An unpleasant and unnecessary indignity.

"I will be out shortly," she replied.

They were waiting with aplomb intact. Naturally. She inclined her head in respectful acknowledgment. "The meeting did not go well?"

Lorat told her, "It could have been improved upon, this is true." He described the location, the guard, the climb, the cave and setting. Then he deferred to Sulden.

T'Pol's face was stiff with her effort at control. Sulden eyed her carefully. "If you prefer, T'Pol-kan, we can defer this until a later time."

"No." She took a deep breath. "It will not improve with time. I am already aware of the severity of my adun's reaction. Continue." Sulden looked doubtful but complied. T'Pol did not realize that her fists were clenching until she felt her nails drawing blood.

"Do you, either of you, believe that Koss deliberately intended to provoke Trip into violent confrontation?" She whispered it harshly enough to grate against the ear.

"Yes." Sulden told her simply.

Lorat was more loquacious. "I am certain of it," he said.

T'Pol looked down at the floor. Lorat continued, "Charles exhibited a degree of self-discipline that would have been respectable for a Vulcan."

"I agree," Sulden offered. "Your adun upheld the honor of this clan in the face of deliberate and illogical provocation."

"There is no end to it," she said in a voice nearly inaudible. "There will never be an end to it. My shame will pursue us until the end of life."

"Shame is illogical," Sulden reproved. "You speak of shame, when there is no cause. Charles speaks of shame, when any logical person would judge his behavior exemplary. There is no logic in either of your complaints."

She looked up quickly. "Trip? Why? What did he say?"

The two clan elders traded glances. "It is not for us to speak," Lorat told her. "If you and your adun have not discussed this, it is past time that you do so. if you have discussed this, it seems that misunderstandings persist and I advise revisting it. In either case, it is not a matter for outside interference."

"What does require outside involvement," Sulden said, "is reporting the results of this meeting to Ganlas. If you are ready, T'Pol-kan?" She nodded and led the way outside, sealing the door behind them.

#

Tizok materialized on the transporter pad with a feeling of absolute wonder. He looked around and realized that he stood in a small alcove, being watched closely by two Human males and a tiny Human female. Remembering his preliminary briefing, he scanned their collars and concluded that he was looking at the captain, first officer, and some as yet unidentified lieutenant.

"_Protocol, fool! You must observe proper protocol! This is a military vessel!" _

Tizok raised his hand in the ta'al and said, "Peace and long life. I am Tizok, son of Althar, formerly of the V'Tosh Katur. I request permission to come aboard." He firmly squelched the errant thought that he was already aboard. Apparently to a Human, he wasn't 'officially' aboard until he had been formally recognized and invited. As a greeting custom, it could have been worse. The Ferkol for instance...

"Permission granted." The tallest Human stepped forward, the one wearing captain rank on his collar. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer. This," he indicated the man operating the transporter, "is my First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed, and this," gesturing at the tiny woman, "is our Communications Officer, Lieutenant Hoshi Sato. Welcome aboard Tizok. It's a pleasure to meet you." He smiled.

Tizok couldn't help it. He smiled back. At which all three Humans grinned. "I am indeed pleased to be here, Captain," Tizok said sincerely. "I look forward to learning much during my time on this ship."

Captain Archer continued smiling and told him, "Let's start by teaching you how to find your way around the ship. Commander Reed and Lieutenant Sato will escort you to the mess hall and introduce you to Lieutenant Rostov. Then the three of you can start hammering out the most effective way to make this arrangement work. Meanwhile I'm needed on the bridge. Once again, welcome to _Enterprise." _

He walked away, leaving Tizok to face the two remaining officers feeling a bit lost.

"It will get easier," Lieutenant Sato told him with a friendly smile. "We're accustomed to having Vulcans as part of the crew. Just give us a chance, I'm sure you won't have any problem fitting in."

"I shall strive to do so," Tizok fought to maintain a proper facade of control. In truth, the excitement of this new opportunity was a sore trial on his ability to mask his emotions. The new techniques introduced by the Kirshara were of great value, but it took time to revise one's entire worldview. "Do you have other Vulcan's serving aboard at the moment?"

"Actually, yes," Lieutenant Commander Reed told him. "My fiancee, T'Jala, is an assistant to our Chef."

Tizok halted and broke into a broad grin in spite of his best efforts. "Another one?" Both of the Humans chuckled.

"Yes," Reed admitted wryly. "T'Pol's Eldest Mother decided that I would make a good husband for T'Jala. So T'Jala gave me the once over and agreed. My opinion, apparently, was irrelevant."

"Malcolm!" Hoshi scolded him. She turned to Tizok. "He's just pretending to complain. Actually he adores T'Jala, and she spoils him rotten."

Tizok inclined his head. "It is the Vulcan way for women to handle marital arrangements."

"Are you married?" Hoshi asked innocently.

"No longer," Tizok said soberly. "My spouse petitioned to her clan elders to have our bonding severed when I joined the V'Tosh Katur." Hoshi winced and looked away.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly.

"Why?" Tizok wanted to know. "You have done nothing offensive. Your curiosity is entirely natural."

"She was expressing sympathy," Reed told him. The entered what was evidently a primitive turbolift and Reed activated the controls. They exited and proceeded a short distance to a large open area that the Humans explained was the refectory, or mess hall.

"But it appears quite neat," Tizok said in confusion. Hoshi sighed.

"Every non-Human visitor we have says that," she looked vexed. "I really wish Starfleet would let go of some of these ancient traditions. Just because they called it the mess hall on the old sailing ships, where the craft was constantly being shaken by storms and rocked by the motion of the sea, doesn't mean that it still applies today."

"Now I understand," Tizok smiled. "Vulcans have other, equally ancient customs. They are also maintained for no particular reason other than the fact that things have always been done that way."

"Have a seat," Reed waved at the tables. "Do you have a preference in food or drink?"

"I am not hungry at the moment," Tizok told him. "Unless, of course," he hastily added, "protocol demands that I share a meal."

"No," the First Officer shook his head with a smile. "We Humans are usually pretty relaxed about things like that. Other than rare ceremonial occasions. But if you're not hungry how about I get you a cup of tea? T'Jala and T'Pol both seem to like some of our herbal teas. I'll bring you one and get your input. All right?"

"That would be agreeable," Tizok told him, reflecting that despite Reed's assurances, it was obvious that some form of nutritive intake was indeed expected protocol on this occasion. He would need to remain alert. Perhaps the woman T'Jala might consent to speak with him, if Lieutenant Commander Reed did not object. Her experience would be valuable to him.

#

Trip opened the door to his house and got hit. His attacker grappled him around the knees and pushed forward as hard as they could. However, despite being Vulcan, they were unable to break Trip's balance completely. He staggered slightly and then bent forward to scoop her up under one arm. Her squeal of indignation morphed instantly into giggles when he counter-tickle-attacked.

"Gotcha!"

"Sa-da!" she protested. "Put me down. Ma-mehk 'n me made cup cakz."

"Oooh! Oooh!" Trip proclaimed, setting T'Lissa on her tiny feet. "Cupcakes. I want some. I want some."

"Oky," she agreed. "Ma-mehk sez you c'n have some too."

T'Pol emerged from the kitchen at the far end of the passageway carrying a tray. Trip looked at her with hungry eyes. She met his look for an instant, then said, "You should sit, husband. Rest your feet and have some water. Then I will bring you some coffee and the cupcake that T'Lissa offered."

"You told me not to call you a goddess anymore," he said, "so can I call you an angel of mercy instead?" Trip whooshed in relief while kicking off his shoes and peeling his socks. He dropped the socks into the disposal slot near the door, wiped his feet on a disposable towel, and slipped into a pair of thick soled house slippers. "Joy," he sighed.

"Sa-da's shusies 'mell stinky," T'Lissa confided as she followed her mother back to the kitchen. Trip missed his wife's reply on his way to the couch. He decided he was just as well off. The pitcher of icewater had never looked so good. He was working on the second mug when his girls returned, cupcakes in hand.

"Oh boy. You two really know the way to a man's heart," he proclaimed.

"Yuss," T'Lissa told him. "Hits right dere." She poked him in the breastbone. "'N Ma-mehk's is right dere," she pointed at T'Pol's burgeoning belly.

"That is correct, T'Lissa," T'Pol praised her. "You have applied yourself to your studies of basic humanoid anatomy adequately." The child beamed proudly.

"Sharp as a tack, beautiful, and she can cook," Trip proclaimed. He scooped her onto his lap. "Just like Ma-mehk. In a few years the boys will be lining up." T'Pol shot him a look but said nothing. It was a subject that had come up in conversation more than once recently. But she evidently decided that now was not the time to resume their ongoing debate about finding a betrothal candidate for their daughter.

"Would you care for a cupcake, Trip?" T'Pol asked him. "The flavor is strawberry, with vanilla icing." She handed him one on a napkin. It disappeared in three quick bites.

"Mmmm," Trip smiled at T'Lissa and rolled his eyes. "Mmmmm-mmmm."

"That means he likes it, Ma-mehk," she informed her mother. "Sometimes Sa-da dun't talk clear, but I c'n allus unnerstand him."

"I am gratified that our efforts were not in vain, daughter," T'Pol told him. "Would you care for one? Only one prior to your evening meal."

"Yus!" The little one grabbed eagerly and made hers disappear almost as fast as her father, who was licking the excess frosting from the napkin and ignoring his wife's rebuking eyebrow.

"Memmer, Sa-da, ony one before dinner," T'Lissa admonished.

"Fooey," Trip pouted. He asked T'Pol, "If we eat all our veggies, can we maybe have some more for dessert? Please?" He offered his best puppy-eyed look.

"Pease, Ma-mehk?" T'Lissa did her best to imitate Trip's big-eyed expression. But she couldn't quite manage to draw her eyebrows mournfully together the way her father did, so she pushed them together with her fingers. Then she stared at her mother, blinking pitifully.

T'Pol kept her expression frozen, but she sighed. "If you will both commit to consuming the appropriate caloric intake of recommended nutrients, I will not object if you wish to supplement your meal afterward with additional pastries."

"Yay!" T'Lissa cheered. Trip grinned and raised his fist in triumph, hugging his cohort.

"Until then," T'Pol continued, "you have yet to finish your mathematical studies. Have you reasoned out the solution to the puzzle I gave you? The one that is based on the relationship between the circle and the triangle?"

T'Lissa suddenly drooped like a dandelion in the Sahara. "No, Ma-mehk. It's too hard!"

"I doubt that sincerely," her mother told her. "You had very little difficulty with the last one, based on the relationship between the sides of the triangle. I expect you to finish the puzzle prior to the evening meal. Go."

T'Lissa groaned and slid off her father's lap. Trip stroked her hair and told her, "You can do it, baby girl. I know you can. Ma-mehk knows you can. We have faith in you."

"Grrrrrr." The little one walked out looking less than thrilled with either parent. Not stomping however. She had not actually stomped for quite some time, given what happened the last time she attempted it. But from her expression, the temptation was powerful.

"The elders informed me of events during the meeting."

Trip held his position, looking at the doorway through which T'Lissa had just walked. "I expected them to." He settled back on the couch and finally looked at her. "Is there coffee in that urn?"

"Of course," T'Pol told him, pouring a cup and handing it to him. She caught his hand as he took the coffee. "Trip. I am sorry."

"Stop. Don't do that." He pulled away and took a sip of the brew. "Perfect, like always."

She pulled her hands back and folded them in her lap, looking down. "As you wish."

"That wasn't-" He sighed. "I meant, don't apologize again. There's no point, T'Pol. We have thrashed this whole thing to death, and you know it." She looked up with unshed tears in her eyes. "Oh man." He slid over and wiped them before they could fall.

"They said... Lorat and Sulden told me that you spoke afterward." She looked down again.

"Crap." Trip fingered his cup. "I was still torn up about... you know. I was still angry, and I talked too much." Trip stood up and paced a few steps. "You know exactly how I feel. I told you. You told me how you feel, and how you felt then. We have been over this and over this. There's no use rehashing it."

"But it still hurts you." She buried her face in her hands. Trip slumped. He put down the cup and knelt in front of her.

"T'Pol. Look at me." He took her wrists and gently pulled them apart. "I know you're Vulcan. I realize that there's some parts of you that I never will understand. But that's ok. I don't need to understand. I love you anyway. Is that good enough for you?"

"I told you it is," she said, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

"All right. Then I'm gonna have to ask the same from you" He licked his lips. "This is part of me, and I can't help it. Talking won't change it. This is part of what I am. I don't know if it's because I'm Human, or because I'm male, or just because I'm me. Most of the time I don't even think about it. But sometimes, it comes back. I can't stop it. All I can do is ride it out until it cools down again. I'm sorry I'm made this way, but I am."

"Don't." She grabbed his hands. "If you will not permit me to apologize, then do not presume to offer one. Especially for being who you are. Out of everyone involved in the situation, you are the only one blameless."

Trip made a strangled noise. "Blameless. Right." He blew out his breath. "Can we change the subject? Please? Right now I don't want to think about what happened today. I just want to enjoy being home with you, and T'Lissa, and the wiggler."

T'Pol let a tiny smile fight its way out. "The wiggler, as you persist in referring to your son, has been unusually energetic today. According to my research this is entirely normal for Human gestation. But Vulcan offspring are not so profligate with their mother's resources. I admit," she paused to put a hand on her belly with a fond look, "that I find it somewhat disconcerting to have my abdomen suddenly deform itself without warning."

"Only another 43 days according to Kerlek," Trip encouraged her. "You almost got it done. But it's been a long ten and a half months." He kissed her. "I'm proud of you."

T'Pol gave him a look of exasperated patience. "It is completely illogical of you to feel proud of me because my body was able to carry out a natural function."

"But you did it right," he insisted. "You took your vitamins, you stayed on your diet, you did your exercises. You did everything you were supposed to do."

She looked strangely at him. "That was simple self-interest, Trip. It was best for the baby and myself."

"Exactly." He beamed and she looked confused.

"Ma-mehk!" A high pitched little voice echoed down the hallway. "The dingy is ding-ding-ing!"

"I believe that the casserole is ready to remove from the oven." T'Pol stood up. "Dinner will be ready in 11 minutes."

"Great." Trip fought his way back to his feet. "That gives me time to wash up and change into something looser. Race you to the table." He grinned.

#

T'Pol lay awake, listening to her husband's breathing. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Another point of increasing concern to her was the long term effect that residing on Vulcan would have on Trip. His body was not designed to deal with the gravity of her home world. With reasonable caution, the desert conditions could be dealt with. The atmosphere was actually no thinner than could be found at the upper elevations on Earth, although the oxygen content was slightly lower.

But the gravity was certain to take its toll.

Both Dr. Phlox and Healer Kerlek had warned them that years of living under Vulcan gravity would inevitably cause permanent damage to Trip's circulatory and skeletal systems. By the time he was fifty years old he might require spinal support and artificial assistance with walking. T'Pol locked her jaws. This was totally unacceptable. However, Trip was equally adamant that they were going to raise their children among Vulcans. He reasoned, logically enough, that their dominant Vulcan genes and Vulcanoid appearance would present significant obstacles on Earth.

"_There has to be a logical compromise."_ She felt him shifting position uncomfortably. Through the bond his restlessness was a low-level aching that settled into her own bones and kept sleep at bay.

"_So much you have done for me, Ashayam,"_ she thought tenderly. _"So many things you have denied yourself for my sake. For T'Lissa's sake. For our son's sake. Your home, your blood kin, your people." _

She reached across and brushed the hair from his face. _"But still you see yourself as unworthy. After all I have done, for you to still be willing to endure my presence, much less to share your life with me, is an impossible gift."_

"Ma-mehk!"

The little voice was too soft to waken Trip. He probably could not have heard it even had he been alert. T'Pol swung herself out of bed and into her lounging robe in a single smooth motion. She was moving down the hallway toward her daughter's room before a Human could have done more than get to their feet.

The little one was sitting up in bed and shivering. When T'Pol entered the room she saw T'Lissa hugging herself and darting frightened glances around the room as if she expected attack from any direction. The Vulcan mother switched to defense mode and instantly started searching the area for anything that might have penetrated their home's defenses. There were at least 26 known lifeforms capable of fitting through T'Lissa's window, and four that were capable of working their way up through the drain in her bathroom, that could be potentially fatal to a small child.

With the lights on and a thorough search completed, T'Pol eased off a tiny bit. T'Lissa was still upset, but lights and her mother's presence went a long way toward helping. Taking a seat on the bed, T'Pol asked her, "What caused your fear, daughter?"

The little girl looked down at her lap and fingered the blanket. "Nothing."

T'Pol considered this answer for a moment. She said gently, "T'Lissa. You were obviously frightened. There must have been some reason for your fear. Can you remember what the reason was?"

"It wasn't real," she told her mother in a tiny voice. "He wasn't really there."

"I see," T'Pol said. "It was a dream." T'Lissa nodded.

T'Pol sat for a few seconds, at a loss. This was one of the many situations where T'Lissa's mixed heritage necessitated what Trip called, 'making it up as we go along'. Vulcan children of T'Lissa's age dreamed as often as Human children. But in a case like this, a Vulcan child at T'Lissa's stage of development would receive basic instructions on casting out fear, and using logical analysis to negate any residual emotions that the dream might have triggered.

Unfortunately, while T'Lissa had inherited Vulcan mental abilities she also had the emotional maturity of a typical Human child. Prior attempts on T'Pol's part to introduce her to the preliminary Disciplines had been unsatisfactory in the extreme. She did not even possess the self-control for introductory training in meditation. Trip had assured her that this would come eventually. They just had to be patient. Meanwhile, Human methods seemed to be the only option. So... what would a Human parent do? What would Trip do?

"Do you," T'Pol hesitated. "Do you wish to tell me about your dream?"

T'Lissa sniffed. "He wuzsa bad man. He wunted to hurt Sa-da."

T'Pol's blood ran cold. She spoke with painful precision. "The bad man wanted to hurt your Sa-da? Why would he want that?"

"N'cause he wuz a bad man," T'Lissa repeated, with the crystal clear logic of childhood. "N'cause he d'n't like Sa-da, n' Sa-da d'n't like him either. They was hitn each othr." She shivered again.

T'Pol closed her eyes and recited the Disciplines to herself. Then she reached deeper for the Kohlinar training that she had not needed to access for months. T'Lissa was fated to become a Healer of interplanetary reknown, according to agents of the Temporal Authority. Apparently her Healer sensitivity was manifesting itself far earlier than usual. Not really surprising. The child was precocious in every other aspect, it made sense that her telepathic abilities would develop early as well. No doubt she had picked up some traces of her father's frustrated anger. She might even have inadvertently touched her father's dreams while he slept.

T'Pol made a decision. It would never pass muster if subjected to review by a panel of typical Vulcan grandmothers, but it 'felt' like the right thing to do.

"Come with me, T'Lissa." T'Pol held out her hand. The little one scrambled out from under the blanket and grabbed her hand like a lifeline. As soon as they made skin contact, she could feel her daughter's fear disapear. T'Pol directed her to put on her house slippers and led the child down the hallway to the parental bed chamber. They paused in the doorway and T'Pol pointed. "You see, Daughter? Your father is sleeping soundly in our bed. He is quite safe."

T'Lissa smiled and hugged her arm. "Can I stay with you and Sa-da, Ma-mehk?"

"If you will commit to remaining still and quiet," T'Pol told her, "you may rest with us. However, if you resume your prior habit of kicking and thrashing you will return to your own bed."

"I be good, Ma-mehk," the little one promised. She dashed for the bed and climbed eagerly under the blanket. T'Pol followed more slowly, already re-evaluating her decision. But she decided there was no point in changing it now.

As she slid into bed beside her daughter, T'Pol told her quietly, "The last time we attempted this, your father woke up with your foot in his eye and your elbow was in the process of excavating my trachea. You must focus on stillness and relaxation. Do you remember what I told you about making a picture in your mind?"

"Like a real soft place fulla pillows?" T'Lissa whispered back.

"Yes," T'Pol was pleased that she had remembered. "Close your eyes." The child obeyed. "Now make the picture. Do you have it?" The little one nodded. "Now put yourself there in your mind. Get comfortable so you can rest there. Do you feel them? Are they soft and warm?"

"Uh-huh." T'Lissa's voice was already drifting. "Smooth n' comfabel."

"Good," T'Pol whispered. "Rest, T'Lissa. Relax and rest. You are safe here. Rest. Rest little one. Rest..." She watched the child drift effortlessly into sleep. Finally.

T'Pol laid her hand against T'Lissa's face. Using the techniques that the Eldest Mother had taught her, she lightly shielded the little one to protect her from any stray feedback that might leak through the paternal bond.

Trip was studying hard. Considering that melding had only been legal on Vulcan for a brief time, the progress that her Human husband had made in understanding and controlling his part of their bond was exemplary. But the Human brain was not really designed for such functions. He could not be expected to maintain impenetrable shielding while unconscious.

Once T'Lissa was peacefully settled, she turned her attention toward her husband. Trip's pain had subsided slightly, but the weight of his fatigue pressed down on them both. She brushed his hair back and laid her hand on his cheek, concentrating on the connection between them. He had withdrawn past the REM phase, into the deepest part of the Human sleep cycle. It would be difficult for anyone except her or T'Lissa to awaken him now, even for an emergency. No one else would be able to capture his attention.

She reached through the bond and carefully located the points of greatest fatigue. T'Pol turned her attention inward and began routing her energy along the bond, pushing it into her mate. Trip slowly started to relax. Once he had settled into a more comfortable repose, T'Pol withdrew her probe and checked again on T'Lissa. The little one was still sleeping soundly.

She settled herself into a position that she could maintain all night without undue strain. Her son responded by stretching his limbs and and turning over. His simple contentment trickled through her awareness and brought a secret smile.

The Vulcan matriarch of her tiny sub-clan permitted herself to slip into meditation. It was the closest thing to rest that she would achieve this night. But her children and her mate would rest, and they would be protected. Nothing and no one would be allowed to harm them. Not even themselves.

#

T'Pol opened the door and stepped through into the well-remembered hallway with a feeling of safety and homecoming. She firmly told herself that she was being illogical. This house was not her home, and it was inherently neither safer nor less safe than any other location in the city. But memory overruled logic and kept her fighting to supress her contentment at being back.

T'Lissa started skipping at her side as they proceeded along the flagstone floor toward the common room. T'Pol squeezed her hand slightly to remind her that such exuberance was not desirable. The child ignored her and her mother could not bring herself to push the matter. Her own steps felt lighter for some reason as well.

The two older women that they had come to see were waiting for them in the common room. "E'dest!" T'Lissa squealed and started bouncing, tugging at her mother's hand and looking up with a pleading expression. T'Pol felt her lips twitch and she nodded. The little one took off like a starship going to warp. She headed straight for the oldest woman, who was sitting in a carved stonework chair and watching with a face that made the chair look emotional.

T'Lissa pulled up to a stop half a micron short of impact and broke into a wide grin. "E'dest I mist'ed you ah'm glad wur here did you mis' me can I he'p you make some tea howsa luffi vines doin?"

Eldest Mother T'Para raised both hands with her wrists crossed and offered fingertips to the young chatterbox. T'Lissa suddenly remembered her manners and reached for her great-to-the-umpth-grandmother's hands, then stopped and remembered to cross her wrists first, the remembered to turn her wrists over so that her fingertips pointed in the right direction. Finally she managed to duplicate the gesture and touched fingers with T'Para, eliciting a tiny eyebrow twitch of ancestral approval.

"The lourfi vines are progressing at an acceptable rate," she told her tiny visitor. "Your departure did in fact leave a detectable void in this household, and if you wish you may assist me in preparing tea later. For now, T'Lissa, you should exercise a modicum of patience and permit me to greet your ko-mehk and introduce her to your krei."

"Oky." The little one took position beside T'Para's chair with a hand on one armrest and watched the proceedings with deep interest.

T'Pol knelt with some difficulty and offered the greeting of family. T'Para touched her fingers briefly and stated, in archaic High Vulcan {Thou art troubled, daughter. Cast out fear. The family stands with thee.}

T'Pol let out a breath and stood, feeling better already. T'Para turned and reverted to modern Vulcan. "This is Jul. She is a licensed Healer, specializing in the the mind, who has recently revealed her talent for melding. Jul has studied the ancient techniques in depth since her childhood."

T'Pol offered the ta'al respectfully. "Peace and long life to you, Jul. I am indebted to yourself and the Eldest for so rapidly responding to my request."

The Eldest Mother expeled air through her nostrils in a manner slightly more forceful than was strictly necessary. In anyone else it would not have been noticable. For her, it was the equivalent of an impatient snort. "Refrain from such nonsense, daughter," she instructed T'Pol. "My grandchild requires aid. What should my response be? Refusal? Even Trip, who is the acknowledged master of creative illogic, would instantly perceive the foolishness of your words."

T'Pol inclined her head and accepted the rebuke. "You are of course correct, Eldest."

"Sit, both of you. Drink," T'Para ordered. T'Pol obediently took a spot on the second lounge, across the serving table from Jul and at right angles to T'Para's chair. The bouncing one was graciously granted permission to help serve the ritual cups of water. T'Pol sipped her water and felt peace sink into her katra. This house, the reassuring presence of the Eldest Mother, the knowledge that the clan was ready to provide any help that T'Lissa might need... it all lifted the weight that she had carried for the past two days.

T'Lissa, as usual, gulped down her water and asked if she could go look at the potted plants. T'Para granted permission, but warned, "Remember this time, T'Lissa. The Qol'istin flower may look aesthetically pleasing, but it will bite your finger if you touch it and the spines are poisonous."

"I 'members," T'Lissa assured her, rubbing a spot on her little hand uncomfortably.

"Remember also T'Lissa," her mother told her, "you are forbidden to climb on any piece of furniture, architecture, or vegetation on this property."

"Okee, Ma-mehk," the little one agreed readily. She took off for the sun porch and started giving the Terran cacti a thorough examination.

"She seems fascinated with horticulture," Jul remarked mildly.

"The child is fascinated by all forms of life," T'Para told her. "The plants were a negotiated compromise during her last visit, after I convinced her that capturing random invertebrates and bringing them into the house for further investigation was inappropriate."

"Your initial suggestion may well be correct then," Jul sounded intrigued. "If the child does exhibit high telepathic sensitivity, and if she retains her interest in biology, a career path in healing would be a logical choice."

"I am confident of her sensitivity," T'Pol told her. "The difficulty lies in her inability to control it." All three of the women watched the little girl as she ran from plant to railing, to bench, to another plant, and back to the railing again. "Two nights ago, she awakened badly frightened. Logic leads me to conclude that she must have brushed against her father's dream."

Jul suddenly focused her entire attention on T'Pol. "Are you certain of this? At such a young age, to probe a non-telepathic mind - even a sleeping one - is evidence of extraordinary ability. Were they in physical contact?"

T'Pol sighed before she could stop herself. "T'Lissa was asleep in her own room. My adun and I were sharing a bed in our room, as is our custom. However, you are incorrect in your presumption that Humans are non-telepathic."

Jul looked stunned. "But..." She looked from T'Pol to T'Para, who gestured confirmation. "But the Science Directorate has categorically declared..." Jul stopped and closed her eyes. "Is there anything that the previous administration did not lie to us about?"

"In this case," T'Para told her, "it depends on how one defines lying. The original researchers may well have acted in good faith when they classed Humans as non-telepathic. According to Trip, Human scientists actually considered themselves non-telepathic prior to first contact."

"I am confused." Jul blinked and glanced out the doorway. "If her father has telepathic ability, it will certainly affect T'Lissa. Blending ordinary Vulcan telepathy with alien abilities will produce unpredictable results. We will need to customize her training to factor in the Human aspects of her heritage."

T'Pol inclined her head. "Understood. According to the prevailing scientific theory, rudimentary Human telepathy evolved as a way of summoning assistance, and/or providing warning, in a case of ultimate extremity. It can transmit vague impressions, perhaps even visual or auditory flashes, but not much more. It is also exhausting to the Human brain. Human telepathy is designed to be powered by the extra energy of the Human adrenaline response, and only for short bursts."

Jul considered this information. "The explanation seems logical, if it fits the available data. But if so, why did the Humans fail to acknowledge this?" She paused abruptly. "Was it, perhaps, a cultural conflict? Similar to our own?"

"Not strictly," T'Pol said dryly. "Although my adun informs me that there were ongoing disagreements between established scientific opinion, and those individuals who reported personal telepathic experience."

"Why?" Jul looked even more puzzled.

"The difficulty," T'Pol explained, "lies in the fact that for Human telepathy to function, an abnormal amount of energy is required. It needs the extra power burst provided by their biochemical emergency response system. Otherwise, the ordinary Human brain cannot transmit a coherent signal."

"It cannot be made to function except during an emergency?" Jul asked, fascinated.

"An emergency, usually." T'Pol told her, "Sometimes an episode of extreme emotional upheaval can produce equivalent results. But the most compelling circumstantial evidence of Human telepathy was recorded in conjuction with life-or-death situations. Unfortunately, life-or-death emergencies are not optimum conditions for controlled experimentation."

"Understandable." Jul sat silently for a time and evaluated this data. "You said that she awakened frightened. Is it possible that your adun transmitted the content of his dream unconsciously?"

T'Pol hesitated. "Unlikely. T'Lissa does share a strong bond with her father. However, Trip was completely exhausted that night."

Jul nodded. "You consider that he would have been unable to generate the necessary energy then?" T'Pol gestured confirmation. The healer-melder leaned back and placed her fingertips together thoughtfully. "Would it be possible for me to speak to T'Lissa alone for a brief time?"

"Certainly." T'Pol stood and called the diminutive explorer back from her jungle excursion. "T'Lissa," her mother told her, "Krei Jul is a healer-melder. I want you to go with her to a private room and talk to her about your telepathy. Do you remember our discussions on this subject?"

"Uh-huh," the little girl nodded emphatically. "Vulcans-can-do-it-but-Humans-like-Sa-da-can't-unless-ther-real-sad-or-real-mad-unless-ther-married-to-a-Vulcan-but-I-can-do-it-n'cause-ahm-part-Vulcan-'n-part-Human-so-I-got-both-kinds-and-nobody-knows-yet-how-its-gonna-work."

T'Pol paused for a moment while the two older women blinked. "Yes... in any case, Jul wishes to talk to you about telepathy. She might also wish to test your telepathy. I want you to cooperate with her. Do you understand?"

"Oky, Ma-mehk." T'Lissa turned to looked at Jul expectantly.

The older woman stood up looking intrigued. "Tell me T'lissa. Do you know what telepathy is?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, following Jul out of the room. "It's how I know Sa-da is comin' home from work and his feet hurt, and how I know Ma-mehk wants ta puke 'cause Malcolm kicked her in th' belly, and how I know Eric was just bein' funny when he said wolf stew would make hair grow on yer tongue."

"Indeed." The pair disappeared around the corner, but Jul's voice carried back for a moment. "When you know that your ko-mehk is feeling nausea, how do you experience it? Do you feel it yourself? Or do you simply..." The words were cut off by the sound of a closing door.

T'Pol sat back and slowly felt herself begin to release the tension from her muscles. Jul obviously knew her craft. Equally obvious was her willingness to accept T'Lissa's mixed heritage without negative assumptions. Of course, the Eldest would not have recruited her for this situation if this were not the case. She was allowing her concern for her daughter to approach irrationallity. T'Pol took a deep breath and decided that continuing a daily renewal of the Kohlinar exercises would benefit her logic, at least for the short term.

"I would offer to make tea," T'Para said, "were it not for my agreement with T'Lissa. Do you desire any form of nourishment, T'Pol? Either liquid or solid?"

The question snatched T'Pol's attention away from the corner of the hallway, where she had last seen her daughter disappear. Deeply chagrined, she murmured, "I do not require sustenance, Eldest. The water is sufficient."

T'Para asked her serenely, "Does your adun know that you have not slept since T'Lissa intercepted his dream?"

T'Pol stiffened. Her lips tightened, then she slumped imperceptibly. "I should have realized that you would perceive it."

"Did you tell Trip what happened?" T'Para's steady gaze reached out and smacked T'Pol upside the head, then rubbed it and made it better, all without moving a single muscle.

"I..." T'Pol looked away. Silence reigned until she couldn't endure it any longer. She looked back and said, "I intended to tell him following this visit." Then she braced herself.

T'Para regarded her. {Daughter of my House. Hast thou so swiftly laid aside the lessons of the time when thou did dwell here with thy adun and thy child?}

T'Pol had expected this. She replied, also in High Vulcan, {Eldest, I have not. I have no intention of concealing this from Trip. However, my adun is already suffering emotional and physical distress. Before I increase his burden, I must be certain of my data.}

T'Para's nostrils flickered for an instant. {Ganlas provided me with a full report of the meeting. Lorat spoke to me regarding thy adun's ordeal. Now I will hear thy report. Speak.}

T'Pol hesitated. {Eldest. Thou knowest all that I do regarding the matter. I do not understand thy command.}

The Eldest lifted her left index finger off the arm of her chair approximately two centimeters, held it for precisely one second, and let if fall back. She returned to modern Vulcan. "I am not concerned with the meeting. Nor does Trip's conversation in the car afterward convey great significance. What I require is your report on the intensity of his reaction during the meeting. Lorat states that you were effected to the point of openly displaying your reaction in front of your Human guest."

T'Pol felt her ear tips getting hot. "I regret my unseemly lapse, Eldest."

"The cause was sufficient, child," T'Para told her impatiently. "And you are pregnant. The fact that you reacted is not at issue. What is at issue is the fact that Trip was sufficiently distressed to cause such a reaction. Tell me what you received through the bond."

T'Pol made a fist and wrapped her other hand around it. "Rage, Eldest. Killing rage. I have not felt such anger from him since..." She looked away. "Then I felt him drawing strength from our bond, and I knew that he was enacting the disciplines. Shortly afterward the connection faded."

"Indicating that he had regained control," T'Para mused. "Both Sulden and Lorat were favorably impressed with Trip's discipline. It seems he has been putting my teaching to use."

"Every day, Eldest," T'Pol told her. "He meditates twice each day, immediately after rising and just before retiring. Until the recent meeting, he had not..." She looked away.

T'Para watched patiently while T'Pol sipped water and recomposed herself. When the younger woman was presenting the appearance of renewed control, the elder one said, "Trip has not contacted me regarding this matter. I deduce that he considers his ability to cope with the situation to be adequate without further assistance."

"Yes." T'Pol closed her eyes. "After the meeting, he visited the Terran embassy and made use of the facilities there to purge the negative emotions. Once he had slept through the night he was able to resume normal activity with minimal disruption."

"Then why are you frightened, T'Pol?" The old woman's expression remained immobile, but her eyes were kind.

T'Pol briefly considered holding back part of her concerns. Then she cast out such illogical musings and put down her cup.

"I am gravely concerned, Eldest, about Trip's long term health. I am also concerned about the lingering damage to our bond from my earlier behavior." Despite her best efforts, T'Pol felt her shoulders sag.

"His long term health issues will certainly need to be addressed," T'Para told her. "For the present, I have arranged to have grav neutralizers installed in your house, in a room of your choosing." T'Pol's eyes widened and she straightened up looking excited. T'Para raised a finger in admonishment. "Do not consider wasting my time and your energy with illogical expressions of gratitude. It is my responsibility to oversee the welfare of the clan. Let that be the end of the matter."

T'Pol pressed her lips together hard and fought not to say what she was thinking. She lost the fight. "I cannot, Eldest. Trip has been suffering increasing discomfort of late, to the point of actual pain. But it would have been at least another half year before our resources permitted the installation of even a single grav neutralizer. Your assistance in this-"

"Be still, child," T'Para snapped, lifting her hand almost high enough to be called a wave. "The additional profits that will accrue to the clan due to Trip's intervention will pay for such minor conveniences many times over. It is certainly in the best interest of the family to maintain your adun in optimum physical condition, is it not? If he becomes disabled, the Humans will appoint a new project leader for their engine upgrade project. Perhaps one less agreeable to deal with."

T'Pol's expression softened. "Of course, Eldest. Your decision is entirely logical, as always." She looked down to hide a tiny smile.

"Merely a stopgap, naturally," T'Para acknowledged. "However it may allow you a little more time to weigh your options and decide your ultimate destination." T'Pol closed her eyes and nodded.

"Trip is determined that the children must be raised among Vulcans. His logic is unassailable, I admit. But I will not permit him to suffer disabling health effects in order to achieve this." She pressed her hands together. "The only logical solution I can perceive is relocation to a colony with a lower gravity field. The difficulty will be locating an appropriate planet."

"Agreed." T'Para leaned forward the slightest bit. "A change of venue might also relieve some of the stress caused by other aspects of life here."

T'Pol tightened again. "Yes." She said nothing more.

TBC

Note: Sorry for the abrupt cut-off here. Things in real life have been crazy lately, but I wanted to post something at least. I fully intend to finish this. I just have to finish putting out several fires.


	4. Chapter 4

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled", and is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess . It picks up immediately after the other one stops. I'm afraid this one is going to be a bit longer than the previous story though.

This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

Chapter 4

Trip walked through the open front door feeling puzzled. The unfamiliar vehicles parked in front of his house bore the distinctive attachments and tool storage units of construction workers. A large power conduit stretched the length of his front hallway and disappeared around the corner leading to the sleeping rooms. A growling rumble worked its way up from the floor, through his shoes, ankles and knees, until it finally started rattling his teeth.

"T'Pol?"

He started working his way cautiously along the passageway, wondering what had happened. Just before he reached the corner, his wife stepped out wearing coveralls and dust. She flashed him a clandestine smile and said, "Adun. Welcome home. Come to the kitchen where it is quieter."

T'Pol slid the kitchen portal shut with a soft thump. To Trip's relief, the solid metal door blocked almost all of the noise from his dull Human ears. She turned and opened the cooler, extracting the pitcher and mug that was obviously waiting for him. Trip took them with absent gratitude, torn between drinking and talking.

He compromised. After one gulp he demanded, "What's going on here?" T'Pol's eyes danced with the mischief that only he was ever allowed to see. Trip cracked a smile. Whatever was happening, it was well worth the noise and dust if it improved her mood this much.

"The workers," she explained, "are installing grav neutralizers in our sleeping chamber and your office."

"What?" Despite his determination not to ruin her mood, Trip couldn't stop himself. "T'Pol, you know we can't afford that. Those things cost-"

"Nothing," she said firmly. "They are being provided as a gift from the Eldest."

Trip stopped cold with his mouth open. His tongue and dried out instantly that way, so he closed it and took another sip of water. "T'Para... she... why?"

"When she learned of your issues with the gravity here, she determined that it was in the best interest of the clan to assist me in maintaining your health," T'Pol explained with a perfectly straight face.

Trip blinked. "I see. She just said, 'Take them,' and that was all of it?"

"Essentially," T'Pol confirmed. "Attempting to dissuade the Eldest to alter a decision once she has made it is an exercise in futility, as you well know."

"Oh yeah." He rubbed his brow. "I know. But did it occur to you check with me before talking to her about this?"

"No." T'Pol's voice was quite firm. "This matter falls within my responsibility as the mother of our house. It is my duty to ensure that each member of this family receives proper care and attention whether physical or psychological. Your health has been suffering. It is my job as a Vulcan wife to deal with this issue." She softened. "The grav neutralizers will not solve the issue long term. But they will provide you with some much needed relief in the short term. This matter is not negotiable, husband."

Trip looked at her for a long moment. One thing that their time together had begun to teach him was when to fold his cards and walk away from the table. This time, he could clearly see that T'Pol was holding a royal flush while he was stuck with a pair of deuces. On Vulcan, the women ruled all household and family matters. And that meant ALL of them.

"I admit that it might be a relief to sleep at night under Earth gravity," Trip sighed. T'Pol rewarded him with another of her nearly instantaneous stealth smiles. Then she gave him a quick peck and sat him down at the table. She pulled out a chair and propped his still dusty feet on the seat, to Trip's astonishment. "What -"

"You need to rest," T'Pol told him. "The family room is not in a usable condition at the moment. This is the best makeshift that I can arrange on short notice. The installation is taking longer than anticipated, since I did not expect them to bring enough grav neutralizers for both rooms. If it is not finished when you return from work tomorrow, I will have a more comfortable arrangement prepared."

"Good gravy," Trip muttered. "I'm not an invalid."

"Nor do I intend to permit you to become one," she notified him sharply. "Are you laboring under the delusion that you have hidden from me the extent of your increasing discomfort? After repeatedly pointing out to me the futility of my attempts to hide anything from you in the bond?"

Trip winced. "All right. I'm busted. My feet have been hurting worse lately. I need to get some better shoes."

"Your feet have been hurting," T'Pol told him, pouring a cup of coffee. "Your back has been hurting. Your knees have been hurting. Your hips, shoulders, neck, and wrists have been hurting. Your elbows have been chronically bruised, as have your ribs. Your digestion has been -."

"OK." He raised a hand. "All right. You win. The gravity is getting to me sometimes. But it's mainly because of the long hours I'm putting in right now."

"Your work schedule is not helping," T'Pol started slicing an apple. "This makes it all the more important for you to rest comfortably when you are home." She handed him the apple and Trip started munching.

"That's good." He engulfed it in record time, earning a sharp look.

"You skipped your midday meal again." T'Pol extracted various and sundry items and started dinner.

"Had to this time." Trip raised a defensive hand at her doubtful glance. "Seriously. There was a fight on the factory floor. I had to break it up and then spend my lunch hour filling out paperwork."

T'Pol stopped peeling. "A fight? Please specify." She looked concerned.

"Nothing drastic," he told her. "Like I told you before, I've been trying hard to keep the Vulcans on this project and the Andorian consultants away from each other. Usually it's no problem. The few times they do need to work together, I can break the ice by giving them something in common. I show them some kind of Human equipment that's inferior to what they both have so they can sneer at it, or whatever. After that, they start thinking of themselves as superior types working together to help out us primitives. It keeps the peace."

"That is quite manipulative," T'Pol told him, with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah, it is," he admitted. "But it works. Once they're together for a day or two, they forget about hating each other. An engineer is an engineer first, no matter what planet he's from. But today things happened too quick. We had a liason come in from the Andorian embassy while I was out in the testing booth running a diagnostic on the new coolant regulators. Anyway, somehow he got into it with one of the Vulcan techs about what happened...," Trip looked uncomfortable, "you know, when the Kirshara got found. I had to go out and break it up. It wasn't pretty." His expression tightened.

T'Pol put down the peeler and straddled his lap, facing him. She settled herself carefully, making sure to keep some of her weight off him. Her fingers found the familiar spots automatically, and she saw her adun's face relax. "Oh, that's nice. If it wasn't for neuro-pressure, I wouldn't make it."

"It offers substantial benefit to me as well," T'Pol told him. Trip took the hint and reached around to the proper points on her back. He got rewarded by the looked of subdued bliss in her eyes. "Your technique is becoming flawless, husband."

"That is most agreeable to hear,wife," Trip whispered. He leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck. "How's my technique with this?"

She shivered and drew back reluctantly. "You are a past master at stimulating me, husband, as you well know. But I must feed you. Then we need to go to the Eldest's residence where T'Lissa is waiting."

"I wondered where you stashed our little runaway warp core." Trip leaned back and watched with a tired smile as she returned to peeling and chopping. "She out digging in the lurfy vines again?"

T'Pol paused with an odd expression. "In fact, one of the first things she said when we arrived was to inquire about the lourfi vines. But she stayed for another reason."

Trip watched her rake the peelings into the mulching bin and considered. Their matebond informed him that something important was associated with T'Lissa's visit to the Eldest. T'Pol had not immediately volunteered a full explanation, which meant that the subject made her uncomfortable. He spent a moment considering possibilities before he opened his mouth. He really was starting to learn. Slowly.

"Does this reason," he asked slowly, "involve "T'Lissa's health or safety?"

T'Pol took a deep breath and turned away from the sink. "She is in no immediate danger, and she is not ill. I did not meant to generate unwarranted concern. She stayed because I requested that one of the clan, a Healer who specializes in telepathy, evaluate T'Lissa's abilities and rate of development."

"Oh." Trip blinked and relaxed. "Is that all? Good idea. Kerlek is a good guy, but he's not an expert with mental development. I'm glad you thought of that. In fact, it might not hurt to have her checked out by a Human psychologist too. I doubt that her growth matches either set of standards."

"A logical suggestion," T'Pol said quietly, turning back to her work.

Trip watched her a moment more. His words had helped, but something was still bothering her. Something that she wanted to talk to him about, but wasn't sure how to bring up. That particular flavor of nervous hesitation was starting to become very familiar.

"Are you going to tell me the rest of it?" he finally asked. She stopped, then slumped.

Without looking at Trip, she told him, "The reason that I asked krei Jul to examine T'Lissa is due to a bad dream she had two nights ago. I suspect that she telepathically contacted your mind in her sleep." Her knuckles tightened. So did Trip's temples.

"I see," he said softly. "Two nights ago? Did she tell you what the dream was about?"

"Yes."

He waited. "And?"

T'Pol turned to face him with a distressed look in her eyes. "She told me that she dreamed about you fighting someone." He looked away and nodded.

"You think your cousin can teach me how to shield myself when I sleep?"

"I... do not know." T'Pol took a deep breath. "My primary concern in this matter is teaching T'Lissa to avoid touching other minds without intending to." She looked at him. "For now, I suggest that we focus on our dinner. We can discuss this matter at length during the trip to the Eldest Mother's home. You are distressingly hungry and tired."

Trip forced a smile. "You got me. All right. What can I do to help?" She handed him a bowl of strawberries and he started picking stems.

#

Senior Diplomatic Attache Koret stood at rigid attention and listened with a stone face while his career crashed and burned.

Ambassador Kilruym raged and cursed as he paced back and forth in front of his desk. He struck Koret across the face with the PADD he was holding and demanded, "Well? Do you have the slightest trace of an excuse? Can you offer any explanation at all to mitigate your behavior?"

Koret stared straight ahead, ignoring the blue patch on his face. His antenna had long since drawn down as close to his scalp as they could go. Only his trembling betrayed the power of his emotion. "No, Ambassador. I offer my life in atonement."

Kilruym made an animal sound of disgust. "Your life? What kind of atonement is that? How would that solve anything? What would it accomplish except to let you escape the consequences of your idiocy? No, Junior Clerk Koret. There is entirely too much scutwork to be done around here. Report to Udira in the stockroom for assignment. And I advise you most seriously never to let me see your face again while you are posted here. Understand?"

"Understood, Ambassador." Koret did an about face and marched out, miserably wondering how he was going to tell his family about this.

Kilruym threw the PADD down on his desk hard enough to crack it. No matter, the contents were unfortunately already embedded in the main database. From whence in due time they would be dispatched to Andoria. Following shortly thereafter he would no doubt receive an inquiry from his superiors regarding what kind of incompetent fool would allow such a thing to happen.

Kilruym threw himself down in his chair with only slightly less force than he had used on the PADD and triggered the comm. Perhaps he could make a pre-emptive strike. If he could show that he had already taken steps to correct the problem, the High Command might not actually execute him.

His personal secretary appeared on the screen. He ordered, "Set up a tight beam subspace connection to the embassy on Earth. Top level encryption. Code Blue." Her eyes widened. "Face to face between me and Ambassador Thrella only. Immediate response. I don't care if she is asleep, mating with her lover, or in the sanitary disposal. Tell them to drag her to the comm."

Kilruym leaned back and surreptitiously rubbed the bases of both antennae. He wanted a cup of chocolate. Badly. It was his own fault of course. He had been warned. More than one Human had told him that it was mildly addictive even to them. The Vulcans found it so threatening to their self-discipline that they banned it's importation altogether. He gritted his teeth. It was not acceptable for a warrior to be bound to a craving like this. Suddenly he stood up and headed for the side buffet. He pulled out an elaborately carved crystal decanter and poured a glass of ale. It wasn't hot cocoa, not even close. But it was better than nothing.

The console buzzed and he drained the glass in a single slug. Kilruym hit the chair and spun it in a single dive, to find his colleague's face watching from the viewscreen wearing inquisitive antennae.

"Kilruym," the Andorian ambassador to Earth began wryly, "I'm flattered. Truly I am. Who would have thought that one drunken evening during our first year at academy would leave such a yearning etched upon you? Not that I haven't missed you too, of course."

"Thrella." Kilruym sighed. "If I were not truly in need, I would enjoy trading jabs with you. But I am beset, old comrade. I need reinforcement."

"Old, is it? Speak for yourself, Kilruym," she grunted. "What hole have you fallen through this time?"

He winced and rubbed his antennae openly, heedless of propriety. He had known Thrella too long and too well to dissemble with her. "One of my attaches... _former attaches_ ... came very close to ruining everything today. I'm in trouble, Thrella. Before the high Command reads the report, I need to present them with some proof that it won't happen again."

"What happened?" Thrella leaned forward looking concerned. She tilted her head and her antennae bent forward. Teasing went out the airlock when an old friend really needed help.

Kilruym groaned softly and told her, "A fight. The iceworm begotten idiot got into a fight with one of the Vulcan technicians that was assisting the Humans with their engine upgrade project. Right there on the factory floor. Captain Tucker had to come out of the testing booth and seperate them with his own hands." He finally looked up to find her regarding him with sorrowful sympathy.

"Oh... Kil..." She grimaced. "Anyone dead? Permanent damage?"

"Dead? No, all praise to the Mother. Permanent damage? That depends I suppose, on how well this is handled. No serious injuries or equipment broken. But Captain Tucker sent me a copy of the recordings from his security monitors. Naturally, they are constantly monitoring and recording every step of the work on their prototype." Thrella nodded understanding. "Human security monitors caught the whole thing. Permit me." He closed his eyes in pain and pressed a key to transmit the file.

The screen formed an insert showing a view from slightly more than a man height above the floor of what was obviously a factory. A mixed group of Humans and Vulcans were working at benches and consoles scattered throughouut the area. An Andorian wearing formal business clothing stepped into view briefly and looked around. He spoke to one of the Humans, who replied and pointed to a Vulcan. The Andorian made a face and said something to the Vulcan, who straightened up with obvious displeasure and replied briefly. The Andorian flushed and stepped closer, while the Human looked alarmed. A few more words were passed and suddenly the Andorian and the Vulcan were locked in unarmed combat.

Thrella, obviously searching for something that might make her friend feel a bit better, muttered, "At least it looks like it was a fair fight?"

"_He went there to deliver an invitation to a dinner party!" _

Kilruym groaned and rested his head on his clenched fists. "But that's not even the worst of it. Let me turn on the sound for the ending, after Tucker comes out. You recall Captain Tucker? The one that the Council voted a Hero of the Andorian people? The one to whom our entire planet owes an honor debt?"

"Yes, Kilruym," Thrella told him patiently, "I remember."

"Then listen to what Captain Tucker had to say about this situation." He activated the sound and turned his head away.

_**Tucker:** "Look guys. I realize that your people have been fighting a long time. But you're gonna have to hold it in when you step in here. This is my place and I'm responsible for what happens in here. Come on, let's settle it down." _

_**Unknown Vulcan:** "Understood, Captain. I was simply defending myself against an unprovoked attack." _

_**Former Attache Koret:** "Unprovoked! You lying-" _

_**Tucker:** "Hold it! That's enough! Stop it right now, both of you. Pojik, how about you go check out the stress tolerances on that modified cross-over bridge for me. Will you do that please?" _

[Kilruym heard the sound of footsteps walking away]

_**Tucker:** "Look... what's your name anyway? _

_**Koret:** "I am Senior Attache Koret from the embassy." _

_**Tucker:** "A diplomat? Ok, if you say so. But don't do something like this again. If you can't control youself around Vulcans, then stay out. You're making me look bad. I had call in a lot of favors and swear every oath a Human knows to make this happen. This kind of incident makes me look bad to Starfleet Command, and it makes me look bad to my wife's clan. And it also makes my wife's clan look bad to the Vulcan government. It dishonors me in every direction. One of your people should understand what I'm talking about, right?" _

_**Koret:** "I... I did not... I apologize Captain Tucker. I should never have allowed my anger to overcome my judgement like that. I implore your forgiveness, both on my own behalf and on behalf of my people." _

_**Tucker:** "Don't worry about it. Just don't let it happen again. I can't have this kind of thing disrupting my people." _

Kilruym turned back. "Now you see?"

Thrella nodded slowly. "You were right. This is serious. Aside from the potential damage to relations with the Humans and Vulcans..."

He made an impatient gesture. "I'm not concerned about that. Trask is a reasonable being. And this new leader the greenbloods have, T'Pau, acts almost sane sometimes. But when the High Command hears that one of my staff was responsible for publicly shaming a Hero of the People, I'll be lucky if all they do is shoot me."

"Perhaps I can help with that," Thrella offered. "From Tucker's wording and tone, I don't think the matter is critical yet. Rather, it sounded like a stern warning that was intended to prevent the matter from becoming critical. I don't believe the situation is beyond repair."

Kilruym felt twin knots on his scalp begin to loosen the tinest bit. "Are you sure?"

"No one is ever sure about anything when it comes to Humans, Kil," Thrella told him seriously. "But from everything I have seen since coming here, and everything I have read about the man, I don't think he was actually enraged. Merely unhappy."

Kilruym slumped in profound relief. "But I dare not take the chance of anything like this happening again, Thrella. I need someone from your embassy. Someone accustomed to dealing with humans, to act as a liason with Tucker and his people. I wasn't trained in Human sociology or psychology. All of my studies were focused on Vulcan."

"A good idea," Thrella told him. "A very good idea. We should have done that from the start. But as my father always said, one learns quickest from mistakes. I presume you want a generalist?"

"Absolutely. There's no telling where they might have to go or who they might have to interact with." Kilruym paused to consider. "What about the two that I talked to before? During that three way link with General Skrilla and Commander Shran? What were their names? Thyr... something? And..."

"Thyren and Lethos. My primary Intel operatives," she told him. "I'm sorry, Kil. I can't spare them. I just can't. It would cripple my operational readiness here."

Kilruym slumped. "Of course. I understand."

Thrella looked thoughtful. "However. There are some junior operatives that have been undergoing intensive training recently." She looked sharply at the screen. "You are aware of...," she paused delicately, "...recent speculations as to the Human's motivation for desiring faster ships?"

"This channel is secure," he told her bluntly. "If it isn't, then neither is my office. Besides, I'm certain the Vulcans already know that the Humans are expecting war with the Romulans." Thrella flinched.

"That's ultra-top secret, Kil," she scolded him. "Even over a secure line-."

"As if the Humans on your end, and the Vulcans on my end, are not already aware of it? And also aware that we know about it?" Kilruym snorted. "Come now, Thrella. There is a time for doing things by the book, and a time for common sense."

"As long as the High Command doesn't catch you being too sensible," Thrella said primly. "But to continue what I was saying. We recently were assigned additional operatives due to... the situation you mentioned. None of them are seasoned at all. But they have gone through intensive training, and all of them have spent at least four cycles of this planet's moon phases interacting with Humans. That's over one hundred days of face to face experience. I could spare one of them, if you are interested."

"I'll take what I can get, with pitiful gratitude," he told her. "If you are sure they are ready?"

Her antennae twisted in amusement. "None of them are ready for intelligence work. They are all too green. But for something like a liason or a courier, any of them should be able to handle it. They are fluent in the Human language, familiar with basic manners and customs, and they are young and eager to please." She grinned. "They remind me a bit of us when we were assigned to the _Reaver_. Do you recall?"

Kilruym snorted, then broke into a chuckle. "Even after so many years, the recollection brings embarrassment."

She joined him in laughter. "But that galley deck was never cleaner, before nor since."

His laughter trailed off into a deep breath of relief. "Thank you, Thrella. I owe you another one." He looked at her for a moment. something in his eyes made her shift position uncomfortably. "Thrella. I... sometimes I wonder why..."

"I'm thinking that Larka would be a good choice," she interrupted him quickly. "She seems to be imbued with a boundless enthusiasm about everything and anything. She makes me quite tired sometimes just watching her."

He accepted the deflection gracefully. "I see what you are up to. You are trying to send me someone full of energy, hoping she will get me into the gym."

"It's worth a try," she jabbed back. "With that extra luggage you carry around, I'm astonished you can even move under Vulcan gravity."

"Come and visit sometime," he returned. "I'll challenge you to a footrace. We will see who's carrying extra luggage."

"Don't be so confident that I won't," Thrella told him playfully. "This Human unpredictability is wearing off on me."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" He mockingly pretended to be outraged. "Come and do your worst. In fact, bring your staff and prepare to submit to a thrashing."

"Kil, you always did say the sweetest things," she told him. "I'll send Larka on the first available transport. And now I have an urgent meeting to get to. Good luck." The screen went dark.

Kilruym sat back and let reaction flow through him. Emotions of relief blended with gratitude, and crashed into plaintive regret for lost opportunities.

#

Pojik shut down the monitors and left the testing booth with a feeling of foreboding. Most of the Human first shift had left hours ago, and even the Vulcans were thinning out. As he exited, more than a few of the Vulcan technicians shot him looks of bland disapproval. He fought hard to keep from flinching. As a V'Tosh Katur, disapproval from his colleagues was a foregone conclusion. Prior to this point he had felt justified in his choices. But today's episode was a different matter. His behavior today, allowing matters with that Andorian to escalate to the point of physical violence, was nothing less than disgraceful by anyone's standards.

To compound his humiliation, even the Humans obviously considered his behavior unacceptable. Several of his co-workers had quietly ventured unsolicited, albeit well-intentioned, advice on various methods for defusing such situations. He was seriously considering resignation. But where else could he go?

Surpek was waiting in the anteroom, to Pojik's surprise and gratitude. In his depression he had begun to convince himself that even his companions among the V'Tosh Katur would be revolted with him. But his old friend wore an expression of sympathy.

"Lenik and T'Hosh are waiting outside," Surpek told him. "The others have gone ahead along with the rest of the first shift. Our Human colleagues invited us to join them for the evening meal at a new establishment in the alien sector. It seems that the Betazoids have opened a tavern that also serves food."

"I find my appetite nonexistent," Pojik told him.

"I was informed most firmly that allowing you to escape would be detrimental to my continued safety and happiness," Surpek responded. "I request that you spare me the ordeal of explaining your absence to T'Hosh. She was pressing her lips together when she said it. You know as well as I what that signifies."

Pojik winced. "Understood. I will at least make a token appearance. Do you know if Captain Tucker was planning to attend?" The pair started for the exit.

"He has already departed for his home," Surpek said. "Several of the Humans remarked that he displayed evidence of unusual fatigue."

Pojik was too far gone in worrying about his own situation to spare much sympathy for his Human employer. "I sincerely hope that I will be able to summon the courage to face him tomorrow. The more I contemplate what happened, the greater my reluctance to return."

"Don't be stupid." The voice came unexpectedly from an opened doorway ahead of them. It was followed by the figure of Mei-Lin Stanczak, one of the team's hydraulic designers. She fell into step beside them and continued, "I wasn't trying to spy, but this hallway has weird acoustics. Anyway Pojik, quit kicking yourself. Nobody blames you for what happened. That guy had no business coming in here and starting trouble."

"Your reassurance is welcome," he told her gratefully. "However, the Andorian's belligerence in no way excuses my own failure."

Mei-Lin took a long step to get ahead, then turned and blocked the hallway in front of them. She raised both hands to form a barrier and gave both of them direct looks. "Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. That's not the point, Pojik. You need to understand something. You guys are with us now. You're on the team, and the team takes care of its own."

"Precisely. My action have not only disgraced myself," Pojik told her. "My behavior has reflected badly on my co-workers."

She snorted in disgust. "Bullshit. Joe and Billy were both ready to jump up and take that Andorian apart if Captain Tucker hadn't shown up when he did. I heard what he said to you, we all heard it. Those were what Joe calls 'fighting words'. And the boss didn't really chew you out for it, did he?"

"Chew...?"

Pojik's bewliderment must have been obvious, for she explained, "It means, he didn't scold you? Issue a verbal reprimand?"

"Not... really," he told her, while Surpek listened with deep interest. "He merely reassigned me to a different area."

"Trust me," Mei-Lin told him. "If Captain Tucker was upset with you, he would have let you know about it. In no uncertain terms. You heard what happened to the Andorian after you left, didn't you?"

Pojik shook his head in the Human fashion. Surpek volunteered, "I heard that Captain Tucker expressed disapproval."

Mei-Lin giggled. "Expressed disapproval? Only a Vulcan would put it that way. He went off like a torpedo on the guy. By the time he got done verbally eviscerating the fool we were almost starting to feel sorry for him. He told that Andorian that if he couldn't behave properly when he came in here, then he could just stay out. Among other things."

Pojik blinked. "I had no idea."

"I told you we take care of our own," she reminded them. "Captain Tucker takes care of his people too. Now let's get some chow. I'm starving."

#

Anna wrapped her arms around Kov from behind and nuzzled his shoulders. He stopped breathing again. "Anna," he managed to finally gasp, "if you do not desist we will never escape from the sanctuary."

"This is a problem?" she murmured, pressing her breasts against him and rubbing a thigh along his leg. Kov's knees started to buckle. He dropped the shirt and spun to seize her hips in his hands, picking her up to straddle his pelvis as he stood and capturing her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him as he strode over to the basin counter and sat her down on his hands, entering her in a powerful thrust...

Afterward, she clung to him tightly while Kov braced his fists on the counter, trying to suck in enough air to maintain consciousness. "You...," he gasped, "are," he paused to breathe heavily, "insatiable."

Anna chuckled deep in her throat and continued kissing his face and shoulders. "I'm sorry, honey. I-. No, I'm not going to lie about it. I'm not sorry," she admitted. "But I really can't help it you know. I just love you so much. I need you."

"I know." He swallowed. "The Human biochemical pair bonding. The 'honeymoon' effect. I remember. I do not know if I am going to survive the next Terran moon cycle. I fear 28 days like this may kill me."

"It isn't a firm number," Anna told him. "Sometimes less, sometimes even more. It varies." Kov made a small sound and she laughed, kissing him deeply. "Let's go home. That way we can at least have the comfort of our own bed."

"A superlative suggestion," Kov whispered, struggling erect and turning back toward his clothes. Anna slid down from the counter and grabbed his arm to help steady him. They got dressed eventually. Somehow. An attendent was waiting at the end of the hallway to escort them to the exit.

Anna paused at the entrance and put on an awkward expression. She told the doorway guards, "I'm really sorry about the way things worked out. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I also apologize for the damage I did."

"There can be no offense where none is taken," the guard on the left told her. The other guard maintained a dignified silence. Kov touched her arm and pulled her gently onward.

When they were beyond earshot he told her quietly, "The personnel of the sanctuary are accustomed to dealing with clients who are in the grip of plak tow. If anyone is to blame it is myself. Since I had already fallen into the fever it was only to have been expected that your self-control would have been compromised."

"Hush." She hugged his arm and kissed it. "It's my fault for trying to get cute by surprising you. Trip and T'Pol both warned me, but I wouldn't listen. I'm sorry." She looked up at him and his heart stopped beating for an instant. Again. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive," he maintained. "If there were, I would forgive you. But there is not." He touched her cheek, feeling her joyous affection pour through the bond and ignite his blood again. Kov quickened his steps. It was imperative that they reach his aircar immediately.

#

"T'Hosh."

The voice was subdued, barely audible against the background noise of Human, Andorian, and Betazoid conversation. She looked up from her meal and her eys widened. "Captain Tolaris!" The other V'Tosh Katur at the table turned as one to stare.

"May I sit?" He seemed diffident. The formerly confident light in his eyes was extinguished, and his shoulders were bowed.

"Certainly," she told him, then looked around. Several tables had been pushed together in order to permit the factory staff to sit as a group. Consequently space was at a premium. Lenik rose to acquire an extra chair, while T'Hosh shifted so that Tolaris could assume her location. His former shipmates offered subdued but sincere welcome to their recent leader. "It is agreeable to see you recovered, Tolaris," T'Hosh told him. "Be welcome to our meal." The others muttered agreement.

"I am grateful. And pleased to have regained my health." Tolaris inclined his head. "It is agreeable to see all of you as well. I trust that circumstances have proceeded favorably?"

"Within the limits of reasonable expectation," Saldre told him. "I was pleasantly surprised to be offered a position as high as the one I obtained, considering my limited experience."

"It is a matter of perspective," T'Hosh told him. "The Humans are only getting started. You already possess as much experience as most of their senior staff. Especially considering their limited life spans."

"This introduces a subject," Tolaris said abruptly. "May I inquire as to the working conditions within the warp upgrade facility?"

T'Hosh regarded him curiously. "I am uncertain as to your purpose in asking. Please specify."

"I mean," Tolaris asked, "are the Humans difficult to work with? Do the other Vulcans cause issues based on one's past history with the V'Tosh Katur? I understand that there are some Andorians on staff as well. How is this dealt with?"

"Ah," T'Hosh was enlightened. "Overall, things have proceeded smoothly. To the best fo my knowledge and belief. I, at least, have not experienced any major difficulties with my colleagues." She looked at the others and raised an eyebrow in question.

"The work has gone remarkably well," Surpek said. "I have found Humans surprisingly reasonable beings. It is distressingly clear that the bulk of the propaganda diseminated by the V'Las administration was deliberately intended to mislead our people into avoiding contact with Humans for some reason."

"True," Pojik agreed. "They seem to be inherently quite tolerant. It is almost as if the IDIC principle is embedded within them as a basic reflex. The other Vulcans are not as open minded, I regret to say. But we have generally been able to come to workable understandings."

"The Andorians," T'Hosh picked up the thread, "are seldom in direct contact with Vulcans. I believe that Captain Tucker arranges matters this way deliberately. When it does happen, he is always careful to make certain that there are large numbers of Humans present."

"Prudent," Tolaris nodded thoughtfully. "I ask about this because I anticipate joining your staff in the near future."

"Really?" T'Hosh blinked. "You are not an engineer."

"This is true," Tolaris agreed. "However, my clan owns a significant percentage of the shipyards. I contacted them while I was undergoing treatment and requested their assistance in obtaining a position of some type. Since other members of the Vahklas crew have been accepted by the Humans, they are confident that I will be accepted as well. All that remains is to receive final approval from Captain Tucker."

"That should present no difficulty," Pojik said confidently. "Captain Tucker is a resourceful manager. A person of your qualifications, even a non-engineer, can surely be useful in some capacity."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled", and is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess . This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

Chapter 5

After V'Rald's arrest and the effective disintegration of Terra Prime, the estimated threat level against T'Lissa had been reduced considerably. But T'Pau insisted on maintaining a token security guard over the galaxy's first Vulcan/Human hybrid regardless. Neither of her parents had offered the slightest objection to this. And of course, T'Para's house was always watched. The Eldest Mother of one of the most influential clans on Vulcan was not going to be left unattended. The thought was ludicrous.

All of which explains why the gate swung open to admit T'Pol and Trip before they even had time to reach for the buzzer. "Welcome krei, and Captain Tucker," the young man at the gate greeted them.

"Hi, Garop," Trip raised a casual hand. "How go the studies?"

"My instructors inform me that my progress is slightly above average," Garop told them. "I am honored that you saw fit to inquire. The Eldest awaits with krei Jul and krei T'Lissa in the main reception area." He closed and re-secured the gate.

"Did you tell them we were comin', hun?" Trip asked softly, as the proceeded along the walk.

"Not the specific time," T'Pol replied even more softly. "Only that it would be this evening."

They stepped through the door and instantly heard the patter of running feet. T'Lissa rounded the corner and headed for the pair at full speed ahead, squealing happily. "Sa-Da! Ma-Mehk!"

Trip grinned and dropped to one knee with his arms open. A happy torpedo launched herself into his chest and sent them both spinning. "Sa-Da! Ma-Mehk! Jul showed me how ta talk wit' my mout' shut 'n I heard you comin' 'n told Edest 'n she said I cud get the water 'n the lurfy vines got big 'n the cactususus got pretty flowers 'n Jul said she thinks I might make a good healer 'n cause I c'n hear stuff feel things 'n I like to look at stuff grow 'n Edest let me he'p her make tea!"

"Well," Trip laid on his back looking up with a smile. "You've been a busy little beaver. Help me up then, and we'll get some water while you tell us all about it." T'Pol stood watching with barely suppressed amusement as the tiny child grabbed her father's hand and tugged. Trip groaned theatrically and strained, letting T'Lissa drag him up by sheer brute force. She giggled and hugged his knees, then grabbed her mother by the other hand and started dragging them both along.

The elder ladies were ensconced in dignified comfort in the front room. The serving table held the the customary water and, to Trip's joy, several bottles of root beer. "Sit here," their tiny hostess directed. "I bring som'pun ta drink."

"You are proceeding too swiftly, T'Lissa," T'Para directed calmly. "First one must perform the greeting. Then the water is offered."

"Oh. Oky," the little one agreed. She got behind her parents and pushed a hand against each back. "Go say hi. Then I bring som'pun ta drink."

"I'll try," Trip said doubtfully. "If I remember how."

"Oh, Sa-da," T'Lissa sighed. "It's easy. Here," she took his forearm and pushed it up. "Now you say peeze 'n long life."

"Peace and long life," Trip repeated dutifully. Jul watched the Human-style interaction with a quizzical expression. Meanwhile T'Pol proceeded without comment to offer the fingertip greeting of kinship to both T'Para and her elder krei.

"Well done, Trip," T'Para said. Deadpan of course. "You have learned your lessons in basic Vulcan customs adequately."

"I owe it all to my ladies," he told her modestly. "Mind if I sit down? My throat is whimpering for that root beer." T'Para flicked a permissive finger and Trip sank to the couch with relief. T'Lissa grabbed his ankle and started heaving it up toward the top of the table.

"No, honey," Trip told her gently. "The Eldest doesn't want me getting my dirty shoes on her furniture."

"But yer feets hurts," the little one protested. She turned to T'Para and proclaimed, "Sa-da's feets hurts, Edest. It makes 'em feels better when dey's up."

"The table has withstood eight hundred and forty-one years of constant use, Trip," T'Para informed him. "It is constructed of solid stone. I doubt that the synthetic polymers in your foot gear will inflict any irreparable damage." T'Lissa happily resumed hefting her father's feet into position and brought him a bottle with frost on the outside. Trip grinned and shook his head. Then she carefully poured her mother a cup of sparkling water from the ceremonial urn and carried it to her in both hands, concentrating with her tongue in the corner of her mouth and taking tiny steps to keep from spilling it. T'Pol graciously accepted delivery and inclined her head. T'Lissa scrambled up and took position between her parents, beaming proudly. Trip fought hard not to embarrass her with a peck on top of the head, but it was a real struggle.

Jul began without preamble, "T'Lissa's telepathy is unusual, which is not surprising. Her ability to transmit thoughts is slightly below average for her age group. However her sensitivity to reception is significantly higher than average. In particular, her empathic abilities are developed to a point that I would not have expected to see for at least another five to seven years."

Trip leaned forward and put down his root beer, looking worried. "You're sayin' that she's vulnerable."

Jul said slowly. "It might be said that your acute Human night vision makes you vulnerable to bright light. It might also be said that the weight of dense Vulcan muscles make us vulnerable to drowning. I urge you to refrain from value judgments in these matters, at least for the present."

Trip sat back and rubbed his face, nodding. T'Pol put a hand on his shoulder. She asked, "Could this unusual sensitivity be due to her Human heritage?"

"Quite possibly," Jul told them. "I have considered your earlier statements regarding Human telepathy. The Eldest," she gestured at T'Para, who twitched a nostril in acknowledgment, "permitted me to use her personal database for further research. If one accepts the premise that the Human brain is limited in its ability to transmit, it seems logical to me that Humans may have become quite sensitive to such transmissions when they do occur. Indeed, it seems a necessary requirement in order for the system to work at all."

"I was often struck," T'Pol said pensively, "during my time on _Enterprise_ by the ability of the Human crew to detect mood changes in their crewmates. Sometimes almost instantly."

"I told you, hun," Trip said tiredly. "We just get used to each other, that's all. When you work with someone long enough, even a tiny change in their body language or tone of voice can be enough to clue you in that something's wrong."

"Yes, so you explained," T'Pol acknowledged. "However, after you told me this I started making a particular effort to notice such details. I also started saving the standard security recordings for the public areas of the ship, particularly the mess hall. I wrote an algorithm that would analyze, detect and report any variation in the voice frequency and/or movement patterns of the subjects being recorded."

"You can't be serious," Trip's jaw was hanging open.

"Why not?" T'Pol gave him the eyebrow of benign amusement. "This was early in my time among Humans, and I was intensely curious."

"As am I," Jul said. She leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. "What were your results?"

T'Pol told her, "I was not able to isolate a causal relationship between variations in the subject's behavior patterns, and the ability of their companions to detect their altered state of mind. In fact, I recall at least two cases where the subject was challenged by his tablemates, and admitted to emotional distress, when my program reported that their voice/body patterns had not varied by more than 0.002% from standard."

"Circumstantial of course," Jul leaned back looking thoughtful. "But interesting none the less. It certainly provides justification for a more in-depth study. If Humans are routinely using their empathic abilities in their everyday interactions without being overtly aware of it, the ramifications are-."

"We are veering away from the purpose of this meeting," T'Para said, to Trip's visible relief. "I encourage you to pursue this line of inquiry at a later time. It merits investigation. Perhaps Trip could assist you in arranging access to some Human gathering points," she looked at him significantly, and he nodded. He knew a cue when he heard one.

"Sure, glad to. But let's get back to 'Lissa, ok?" He turned and stroked her hair gently.

"Whatsa matter, Sa-Da?" T'Lissa looked up with concern in her eyes. "How comes yous is worried? Evey-body ok? Right?"

He hugged her one armed with a grin. "Sure, everything's fine. I just worry because that's a Dad's job, to worry. It's what we do."

"That ain't loggikal," she scolded him. "Tell him Ma-Mehk," she turned to T'Pol for reinforcement.

"You will find as you mature, my daughter," T'Pol told her solemnly, "that your father sometimes behaves in a manner that does not always adhere to the strictest tenants of the most rigid forms of logic. This is inherent to his nature and it is merely something that we must accept."

T'Para coughed. Everyone in the room went rigid. "Yous oky, Edest?" T'Lissa innocently asked. T'Para glared at T'Pol before assuring the child that she was fine.

#

Minister Kuvak placed his hand against the I.D. plate at the front gate to his residence. A soundless light blinked and the gate swung open on well lubricated hinges, permitting him to enter the native stone hallway that penetrated the curtain wall of the ancient fortress which formed the heart of his ancestral manse. Trap doors overhead marked the point where the warriors of old had waited for invaders to pass beneath. Today, they concealed nothing more lethal than monitoring stations and Security Directorate operatives armed with regulation sidearms.

The inner gateway opened as he approached. His household steward, Tewar, stood with folded hands and impervious calm. In the 107 years that he had been in service to the family, Kuvak could not truly recall a single instance of the man ever losing his grip on the Disciplines, not to the slightest degree. Kuvak had attempted to present Tewar to Kov during his childhood as an ideal toward which he should strive. He often reflected on this during later years, while estranged from his son, and considered that perhaps he had imposed impossible expectations. Few Vulcans, even mature adults, were capable of approaching Tewar's ability. Asking a small child to make the attempt had probably been unreasonable. One of many regrets that he intended to make amends for.

The steward stepped forward one precise pace as Kuvak reached the end of the passage. "Your son and his betrothed have returned, Minister." He might have been reporting the readiness of the evening meal, despite knowing better than anyone else in the household how deeply troubled Kuvak had been over the years.

The minister stopped in his tracks, gladdened beyond his ability to completely contain. "Is all well with both of them?" Kuvak noted with chagrin the note of eagerness in his tone, and sternly promised himself an extra hour of meditation time for the next ten days. A planetary minister had to maintain an example. He could not afford even the relatively minor lapses that might pass as acceptable in someone who occupied a less visible position.

"So I am informed," Tewar told him. "Would you prefer to meet with your son? Or go directly to your office?"

"I will speak to my son," Kuvak said.

"As you wish, Minister." Krewar turned and led the way into the house. "Adjunct Kov is in the main reception area. I will prepare tea." The steward turned toward the kitchen and Kuvak headed for the reception area with accelerated steps. He caught himself again in chagrin and moderated his pace. He would have to defer his normal evening paperwork, additional meditation was becoming inescapable. It had certainly been a most trying year.

The elder Vulcan's bowstring-taut nerves began to loosen, just the tiniest bit, when he saw his offspring. Kov stood next to the sideboard arranging the water. He was neatly attired and meticulously groomed, and his expression was serene. The younger man turned at the sound of his father's footsteps and offered the taal, but Kuvak wasn't having such formality. Not today. He crossed his arms and spread his fingers, waiting. Kov obediently walked over and offered the greeting of kinship.

It was true. The touch confirmed what his eyes had dared him to hope for. Kov was at peace. Truly at peace within for the first time in many years. Anna had accomplished what the entire clan, and years of aimless wandering with the V'Tosh Katur could not achieve. She had not only saved his son's life but, apparently, his sanity as well. Then and there Kuvak privately vowed to himself that anything Anna ever requested would be granted to her - up to and including her own personal starcraft. Nothing could be adequate to repay the debt he owed to her.

"Welcome home, Father," Kov inclined his head and turned to pour the welcoming cup.

"To you the same, my son," Kuvak said, barely holding back the emotion. "Welcome indeed to you and your mate." He took the cup with shining eyes and sipped it with a warm feeling of homecoming filling him.

"Anna is resting," Kov told him. He hesitated. "She is well. However, the time..." Kuvak held up his hand.

"No more need be said. It can be exhausting for one of us. I do not care to imagine how taxing it must be for a Human. I will give instructions that she is in recuperation mode and should be served appropriately."

Kov's relief was visible, but his father did not hold it against him. They were in private and, to Kuvak's way of thinking, the cause was more than sufficient. Kov told him, "I consider it advisable that I remain available until Anna is able to care for herself independently. However, I am available for clerical or communication duties if you wish."

Kuvak considered briefly. "There is one matter. It would be helpful if you assumed direct authority over the placement and supervision of your former shipmates. Many of them have already found positions, including your entire engineering staff," he gave Kov an approving look. "however there are several remaining individuals that, for various reasons, present challenges."

"It would be most agreeable to undertake this matter," Kov told him. "There is one request I wish to make, father. Anna's brother has traveled from Earth, as you know. I ask your permission to invite him to invite him to transfer his quarters here for the remainder of his visit."

"Most definitely," Kuvak made a gesture with one finger for emphasis. "I would have undertaken this myself, however I was uncertain of his reaction with Anna being absent. Any member of your mate's family is always welcome here, you need not ask permission in the future."

"Anna will be pleased," Kov assured him. "I look forward to meeting him," he added with a barely detectable trace of nervousness.

"I spoke briefly with the young man upon my return," Kuvak told him. "It seems Captain Tucker has reported that you were called away on urgent unspecified business. He also told Anna's brother that, due to bureaucratic inefficiency, Anna was not informed of your location at first. Upon learning your whereabouts, she flew to join you. No further data was provided to him, however he told me that he accepts the need for confidentiality in dealing with high level government operations."

Kov stared. "That... but... that is blatantly deceptive."

"Not strictly," Kuvak noted. "I also spoke to Captain Tucker, who promised me that he merely said you have been called away, that Anna had not been informed of your location, that Lady T'Pol had used her influence to locate you, and that Anna had then left to join you. Anything else was a deduction on the part of Anna's brother that the Tucker's did not bother to correct."

Kov looked faintly distressed. "I must discuss this with Anna. I do not know if she will consent to deceiving him this way. In fact, I am responsible for causing significant distress to his sister. As her brother, he has the inherent right to be aware of this."

"Discuss it with her, of course," Kuvak told him, glancing up as Tewar walked in carrying the tea service. He gestured toward the sideboard and walked over to begin pouring. "However, I have found Anna to be an ultimately pragmatic young woman. I believe she will perceive no logic in disturbing the status quo."

Tewar stood by the sideboard with his hands folded. Kuvak looked at him. "What is it, Tewar?"

"As per your prior instructions," his steward reported, "I informed the clan elders upon Adjunct Kov's return. The Eldest Mother has returned a message directing you to arrange a meeting between herself and Lady Anna to discuss wedding arrangements."

Both men winced.

#

Tolaris sat stiffly and faced his clan elder across the table. "I was not aware that Captain Tucker had married Lady T'Pol. It may be that this will prevent my placement with the Human project."

Jorin's brows drew together. "Explain."

Tolaris sat, if possible, even more stiffly erect. A tersely as possible, he offered a summary description of the encounter between Vahklas and Enterprise, as well as an even more abbreviated summation of his aborted courting of T'Pol. When he finished, Jorin sat back and closed his eyes in pained silence.

After a nervous moment, Tolaris offered, "I acknowledge that my behavior was less than exemplary."

Jorin opened his eyes and regarded his kinsman bleakly. "You were a member of the V'Tosh Katur. To say that your behavior was less than exemplary is ludicrously redundant. This, however, is unconscionable. From your description, it seems probable that you transferred your illness to then-Commander T'Pol."

Tolaris' jaw muscles bunched. "I have admitted that my behavior was wrong. I believe that my judgment, as well as my self-control, were compromised by the neurological damage from my illness."

"Perhaps." Jorin eyed him with excruciating disfavor. "During my abbreviated encounter with Captain Tucker I was favorably impressed with his dedication to the principles of order and IDIC. I will forward your request to the office of Minister Kuvak with a request for Adjunct Kov's attention. Beyond that point, the matter will be your own responsibility."

Tolaris stood and gave a slight bow. Jorin flicked his fingers in dismissal, and the younger man turned to leave without another word. Once in the corridor, he silently began reciting the Disciplines to himself. It felt unnatural, like trying to put on a suit of clothing that no longer fit. But he had no other option now. Hopefully he could maintain the facade until nightfall, when he could venture into the desert for a brief period of privacy and relief. Perhaps even some hunting?

When Tolaris let himself into his tiny bachelor compartment, the message indicator on his comm unit was lit. He seated himself and checked the incoming list. A smile softened his face at the sight of three former shipmates who requested he contact them to arrange visitation. It was warming to know that one still had friends, no matter what else happened.

The last name on the list gave him thoughtful pause. He decided to call it first. His kinsman's face filled the screen almost immediately. "Greetings, krei Tolaris," Koss told him calmly. "I trust that your discussion with Elder Jorin was productive?"

Tolaris sat back and regarded Koss carefully. "As productive as could be anticipated, given the circumstances," he said. "As you warned me, he did not respond well to the news."

Koss displayed no visible reaction. "Was he still willing to forward your application? That is the only important matter."

"Yes," Tolaris said slowly. "I should be speaking with Kov tomorrow."

"Satisfactory," Koss told him. "Advise me if further assistance is required. I am here to serve."

#

Koss deactivated his comm and stood up. One more small task to complete, and he could sit back and let events take their inevitable course.

His apartment was located with easy strolling distance of the central city shops and cafes. Koss kept the hood of his light robe pulled well forward, both for shade and to avoid attention. Logically, there would be no harm if someone did recognize him. After all, it was not unheard of for him to occasionally walk into the city for small shopping errands. But he greatly preferred to avoid conversation on this day of all days.

The tea shop was tiny. It occupied the corner space of an extremely old plaza in the oldest part of town. Only a faded symbol on the door identified it. The interior was dimly lit, as it had always been on his infrequent visits. Trough shaped steps led down to the stone floor which was inlaid with badly worn mosaics, blurred by the feet of centuries. The high arched ceiling overhead was carefully fitted together from cut stone reinforced with titanium struts a millennium old. The walls however, bore hand painted murals that were as blazingly bright as if they had been painted that very morning. The largest painting, which covered the wall behind the service counter, displayed a broad desert scene of two wild sehlat's lock in death battle. Overhead, etched in silhouette against the setting sun, a bird of prey circled the battling carnivores.

The shop held several customers, as usual. Also as usual, most of them were outworlders. He walked up to the service desk without lowering his hood. The Vulcan woman behind the counter meet his eyes directly, then narrowed her gaze. Koss said flatly. "Tea... chamomile." It was a recent Terran import that many young Vulcans were finding agreeable.

She turned and entered the kitchen. Three seconds later a large man emerged, wearing a tight skullcap pulled low over his forehead. He poured the tea, never taking his eyes off Koss. "Do you want anything with that?"

Koss considered quickly. From the report, it would be best not to push to hard. "No. That will suffice." He collected the cup and chose a seat neat the back wall. A sip of the beverage forced him to call up all his self-control. The Human fluid was repulsive. How she could possibly drink this was incomprehensible to him. But of course, she did many things that were incomprehensible. He forced himself to remain seated a normal amount of time and finish the cup. Waste was illogical. On the way out he deposited his cup in the disposal chute. At no time did he look again toward the counter.

Upon returning to his apartment Koss donned his meditation robes and settled down for the evening. As he spent time in soothing reflection of the day's accomplishments, and since he was completely alone, just this once... he permitted himself a triumphant smile.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This is another afterthought to my series "The Road Once Traveled", and is a direct sequel to Kov + Hess . This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

A/N: This story make frequent reference to events and/or information that was introduced earlier in the series. I try to make things as self-explanatory as possible. But some of this might still be puzzling if you haven't read the previous stories.

Thanks to everyone for the reviews. They provide more help than you might realize when it comes to motivation. I hope this chapter addresses some of the concerns that people brought up. It might also provoke some controversy. We'll see.

Chapter 6

"Oh my... right there. Perfect..."

"Of course. When have I settled for less then perfection in caring for your needs?" She spread her fingers and pressed deeply into the third dorsal node on the left lateral, while simultaneously using her thumb to apply a sequence of stimulations to the spinal branching along the right distribution network. He shuddered and made a tiny sound. Her nostrils flared at the sudden increase in pheromones. They would certainly be mating again tonight. Excellent. Reinforcing the Human bio-chemical bond was just as important as sealing the Vulcan telepathic connection.

He rolled over on the cushions and reached up to stroke her cheek. "You are perfection incarnate, my love," he said softly. Her nerves hyper-activated when she realized through their connection that he meant it. He wasn't engaging in typical Human hyperbole. Her betrothed was so besotted that he was incapable of perceiving her flaws. Illogically, instead of being disappointed at his lack of self-discipline she found herself experiencing a growing warmth in her abdomen. The appropriate Human response to such a statement, she reflected, would be a kiss.

The kiss became extended and was on the verge of advancing to more in-depth explorations when the comm unit sounded. Malcolm stopped and closed his eyes. "No. Not again. That's the eleventh time this week that we've been interrupted."

"Did you not explain to me," T'Jala remarked, standing up, "that the First Officer is never off-duty?" She offered him her hand, which he accepted, and pulled him easily from the floor. His reply was inarticulate and guttural.

Malcolm poked the comm button with an impatient thumb and snapped, "Reed here. Report."

"_Commander. This is Consultant Tizok. You suggested that I contact you at the end of my duty shift regarding my request."_

Malcolm's head suddenly sagged forward. "I forgot to mention it to her. I apologize Tizok, but she's right here. Let me do it now." He straightened up and turned to face T'Jala, who tightened her lips at the voice coming from the comm. "I'm sorry. Tizok asked me about arranging a meeting with you to discuss the ins and outs of living among Humans. Apparently my flea brain just couldn't hold onto the information."

"Is it your wish," she spoke carefully, "that I meet with this man?"

Malcolm opened his mouth and froze, looking at her. He closed his mouth and regarded her carefully. "What am I missing here?"

T'Jala carefully stated, "If. It. Is. Your. Wish. That. I. Meet. With. This. Man. I. Will. Do. So."

Malcolm drew back and watched her for a time. "Is there some reason that you wouldn't want to meet with him?"

T'Jala opened her mouth and hesitated. Before she could phrase an appropriate reply, the comm unit sounded again.

"_Perhaps I can clarify, Commander. I was formerly of the V'Tosh Katur. Conversation with members of the engineering crew has provided information regarding Crewman T'Jala's family affiliation. For one of her elevated social status to voluntarily associate with an outcast such as myself might well result in negative consequences." _

"That..." Malcolm looked from the comm to T'Jala and back again. "That makes no sense. T'Pol associated with the crew of _Vahklas_ when we met your ship the first time. And Kov is a highly placed member of your government now."

"T'Pol was performing her duty in compliance with the orders of her commanding officer, "T'Jala explained pointedly. "She could not be held responsible for the decisions of her captain. And Kov's behavior was already a source of difficulty. By returning home and accepting a position of responsibility, he is actually improving his father's reputation."

"Ah." Enlightenment suddenly appeared on Malcolm's face, to her relief. "You want me to order you to meet with him, so you can have a workable excuse in case anyone back home finds out about it."

She drew her eyebrows together. "That is not the way I would have phrased it. But, essentially, yes."

"All right then." He considered. "Crewman T'Jala, as First Officer I believe it would be in the best interest of the crew and the mission if you were willing to provide Tizok with training on how to interact with Humans more efficiently."

She inclined her head. "As you wish, Commander Reed." She addressed the comm. "Consultant Tizok. My duty shift is from 08:00 to 20:00. You may contact me in the mess hall at any time during that period to arrange a meeting schedule."

"_Acknowledged, Crewman T'Jala. I will attempt to coordinate with you tomorrow."_

The comm clicked off. "Now that's out of the way," Malcolm said briskly, "Where were we?" He walked over and brushed her hair back, trailing fingers down the side of her neck and provoking a shiver. He replaced the fingers with his lips and the shiver became a clutch of his shoulders.

"You are," she panted, "remarkably tolerant, Malcolm. Considering that w-." He moved his mouth to the base of her neck and started nibbling. Her knees buckled. Malcolm caught her and started walking with her toward the bunk. "Con- considering that we are newly be- bet- betrothed," she finally managed.

"I have no idea what you mean," Malcolm said vaguely. He slipped his hands beneath her upper undergarment and slid it up and off. T'Jala willingly reclined on the bunk and cradled his head as he devoured her breasts. He finished removing her underwear as she pulled down the last of his clothing and dragged him to the bunk on top of her.

She broke the kiss to say, "I mean," they joined lips again, "that most newly betrothed Vulcans would not be so casual about permitting their t'hy'la to spend time alone with some-," another kiss ensued, accompanied by eager manipulations, "someone of the opposite gender."

Malcolm removed his mouth from her belly long enough to say, "I trust you. Besides, you're going to be meeting in public aren't you? In the mess hall after your shift maybe?" He went back to work.

"If... if that is what you wiiiIIIIIIiiiisssshhhh." Her back arched uncontrollably.

"Yes." He raised his face and told her. "Public meetings are fine. Private, not so fine. Besides, I'm First Officer. I control every gun on the ship."

She grabbed his shoulders, dragging him back up to capture his mouth with her own again.

#

"Trip." T'Para gave him The Look. He clamped his mouth shut. "Further debate would be counter-productive. Return to your house and obtain the necessary toiletries and clothing. The three of you will stay here tonight while installation of the gravity neutralizers is completed. Proceed." He quirked a half-smile, inclined his head, and headed for the door.

T'Para turned and called, "T'Lissa, you may retrieve the trowel and complete the task of preparing the soil in the seed bed as I instructed. Remember to take care that the potting soil does not escape from the box this time."

"Oky, Edest!" A blurred streak whooshed past, leaving unsettled air currents behind. T'Para stood silently for a few seconds while the dust settled. Then she turned and proceeded toward the kitchen to rejoin the other adults. T'Pol was leaning over her cup of tea, aimlessly running her finger back and forth across the cup's engraving. T'Para paused in the doorway to listen.

"... your premise is flawed."

"How so?" Jul asked calmly

T'Pol looked at her. "Trip's difficulty has nothing to do with understanding, nor logic. Can one reason the blood fever into submission?"

"Ah." Jul's face changed very slightly. "He is undergoing an instinctive response to a challenge from another male."

"Only in part," T'Pol said. Her distress was plain to see. "If I had known at the time of my first wedding what was truly in Trip's mind and heart, I would have called the challenge and fought Koss myself."

"Refrain from such outbursts," T'Para snapped, walking in and joining them at the table. "Choosing the kalifee would have been bad enough. No woman of our clan has sunk to such barbarism in more than 500 years. But to do it and then take up weapons with your own hand? The disgrace would have been irredeemable."

"The disgrace that I bear now is irredeemable." T'Pol said hollowly. Jul and T'Para shared a look. "If I thought that it would grant him peace, I would kill Koss and carry his heart to Trip on my knees."

"Child." T'Pol turned and the Eldest looked at her firmly. "You will reserve an extra three hours tonight for deep meditation. Plainly the stress of this situation is destabilizing your control again. Remember what I taught you. The feedback of your bond must not be permitted to escalate."

T'Pol stiffened, then slumped. "Acknowledged, Eldest."

Jul inclined her head. "If the issue persists, perhaps a a meld between the two of you might-"

"No." T'Pol interrupted her sharply. She blinked and came to herself, swallowed, then added, "I do not believe that a meld will be required."

Her krei gave her a narrow look. "As you wish." T'Para said nothing in words, but her eyes compensated for it. T'Pol looked down.

"I confess," Jul said slowly, "that I am having difficulty grasping the precise nature of your adun's problem. Certainly, the overt hostility exhibited by Clan Tren'nik'lok'hlt'li'jan'mrifloj'hed'fr'dac is distressing..."

"Irrelevant." T'Pol snapped impatiently. She caught herself. "I ask pardon. The Eldest is correct. I require additional meditation."

"Perhaps you should avail yourself of the opportunity now," Jul suggested. "The Eldest and I can keep watch over T'Lissa."

"A most logical suggestion," T'Pol said gratefully. She headed for the back of the house looking exhausted. The remaining pair sat sipping tea for a few moments in companionable silence.

"Eldest, is it feasible that you might assist me in understanding this situation?" Jul sat her cup down primly and folded her hands, waiting.

T'Para held her cup in both hands and looked out the window at the little one, still digging industriously. Dust and the occasional dirt chunk rose up in a steady fog over the seedbed. The entire arrangement would have to be re-done. But it gave the child a sense of accomplishment, and the dirt actually did need to be worked into a looser mix.

"I have spent a substantial amount of time speaking with that young pair," T'Para finally said. "In my opinion, the primary source of the distress Trip feels lies in his conviction that he failed to assert himself appropriately in the earlier portion of their relationship, with particular emphasis on the period immediately prior to T'Pol's wedding to Koss. His secondary difficulty lies with his suspicion, despite all her protestations to the contrary, that T'Pol is only with him due to a series of mischance events and because she had no other logical option."

Jul closed her eyes in concentration. "I would not presume to attempt emotive therapy on a Human. However the secondary difficulty should have been dealt with by the formation of the mate bond. Or is it too weak for him to detect her sincerity?" she asked.

"That is part of the problem," T'Para told her. She suddenly felt tireder than even her years could account for. "Their bond was atypical from the beginning. At the time of her wedding to Koss, the mate bond was still so weak that T'Pol herself was not aware of it. Trip was oblivious to any telepathic connection between them. It is only now, after living together as a family for more than two years, that the telepathic centers in Trip's brain have strengthened to the point of being able to dependably maintain contact."

Jul stirred and looked interested. "His telepathic structures are growing?"

"No." T'Para took a sip. "Apparently the Human brain is a most adaptable organ. Rather than increasing the telepathic structures themselves, the healers maintain that Trip's central nervous system is adding multiple cross-connections between the telepathic portions of his brain and adjacent structures. When accessing the bond, his brain activates the additional cross-connections to supplement the rudimentary telepathy that he would ordinarily be capable of."

Jul looked fascinated. "Most intriguing. If T'Lissa has inherited this ability, it will make a significant difference in her development. I must consult with her pediatrician. It might explain her precocious empathy."

"That can easily be arranged. Healer Kerlek of the Science Directorate is her designated pediatrician, in conjunction with the Denobulan Phlox of the Interspecies Medical Exchange." T'Para stood up and walked over to the window. The subject of their conversation had paused in her digging to examine something engrossing that she had unearthed.

"In any case," Jul mused, "if their bond has strengthened to the point-"

"Forgive me," T'Para turned and raised a hand. "I would not have you misapprehend. The distress that Trip feels is based on his memories of past events, not on his evaluation of T'Pol's current motives."

Jul blinked. "If the memories were suppressed...," she hinted. T'Para flicked a finger in dismissal.

"For Humans this is not an option. I have already offered the suggestion. The structural subdivisions of the Human brain prevent any such attempt from succeeding," the Eldest explained. "Moreover, Trip tells me that it would violate some aspect of Human ethical standards. Although his attempt to explain this was not fully clear."

Jul reached for the teapot and refilled her cup. "How do Humans deal with such situations among themselves?"

"It would never happen," T'Para walked over to the cabinet and took down a covered dish of thin bread. She placed it on the table and began extracting assorted vegetables from her stasis unit. "The situation is unique, and not only because of the mate bond."

"I am aware," Jul was speaking with careful precision, "of the basic facts regarding the allegations made by Charles at the last Gathering. Since V'Rald was eventually arrested, and Charles was awarded compensatory damages, logic leads me to conclude that there was substance to his accusation. If this is true, I am puzzled as to why T'Pol married Koss in the first place."

T'Para stood perfectly still for a time. Finally she turned and resumed her seat, looking at Jul with a granite expression.

"T'Les knew when she was dismissed from her position that her connection to the Syrannites had been discovered, or at minimum was suspected. Given the standard operational methods of the V'Las administration, suspicion alone was enough to ensure her eventual elimination. She determined that escape to the Forge was her only logical option." Jul gestured understanding.

T'Para continued, "T'Les also knew that the High Command was less than pleased with T'Pol's conduct while assigned to the Human ship. She concluded that if she simply left to join the rest of the Syrannites, the wrath of the high Command would fall on her daughter. Therefore, she contacted Clan Tren'nik'lok'hlt'li'jan'mrifloj'hed'fr'dac in an attempt to repair the damage caused by T'Pol's refusal to return. When her daughter came home, T'Les intended to ensure that she was married to the nephew of an influential Sub-Minister. If the Syrranites failed to recover the Kirshara, V'Rald would still be impelled to protect T'Pol as a member of his family."

"Flawlessly logical," Jul narrowed her eyes. "T'Les must have found it quite disagreeable when T'Pol came home accompanied by a Human paramour."

"Yes," T'Para said flatly. "It disturbs me that the child did not confide in me. I am led to conclude that T'Les suspected me of possible collusion with V'Las."

"Highly stressful situations are well known to distort one's judgment," Jul said blandly.

T'Para gave her a glance before returning to the sink to peel vegetables. "Indisputably."

"I can readily perceive how Charles was placed in an untenable position," Jul mused. "If he declared himself, he would be placing T'Pol in the position of choosing between him and her mother. As well as causing her to provoke the animosity of a highly placed government official against herself." Jul looked up at T'Para. "There is an aspect of this that I am not perceiving. When viewed objectively, Charles was presented with only one honorable path. Nor did T'Pol seem to have any logical alternative but to accept her mother's wishes."

"The difficulty is due to the difference between our species," T'Para raked the chopped fo'daer root into a bowl and reached for a bundle of ghouri leaves. "By Trip's standards, if T'Pol had truly cared for him she would chosen Trip over all others, including her mother. Of course, if she had done so T'Les would have then fallen under Trip's protection. Since she did not do so, from Trips perception, T'Pol abandoned him for another man." Jul straightened and seem about to say something, but T'Para continued to talk.

"Because they had previously engaged in copulation prior to this point, Trip instinctively regarded T'Pol's behavior as betrayal. By his standards, his proper course of action should have been to turn away from her permanently and seek an alternate mate."

Jul lowered her hand with a look of growing distress on her face. "I begin to understand. Because of the bond he was unable to disengage from her. And..."

T'Para finished. "Since his mate had betrayed him by choosing another man, and the matebond ensured that he continued to care for her, Human instinct and tradition left him no choice but to define himself as weak. Just as among our people, for Human males to demonstrate weakness in any form is to invite attack. It is not logical under current conditions," the Eldest explained. "But instinctive responses are indifferent to modern customs."

The healer nodded sadly. "Thus, when she turned to him only after Koss released her-"

"No, she did not."

"What?" Jul was nonplussed. "But they were bonded."

"T'Pol was still unaware of the bond at the time of her divorce," T'Para said darkly. "This is the aspect that I believe troubles them both to the greatest degree. Shortly after her marriage to Koss, Trip made a remark to T'Pol indicating that he did not believe that they could have been successful as a mated pair. The statement was a deliberate falsehood, made with the intent of assisting T'Pol in casting out distress at the situation."

"Massively illogical," Jul said, staring.

"Yes, it was. It was also typical of Trip," T'Para said. "T'Pol, not perceiving his intent, took the statement at face value. Rather than reduce her distress, his statement compounded it significantly. She had been secretly planning to divorce Koss at the first reasonable opportunity and attempt to rebuild a relationship with Trip. After his statement, she abandoned this thought and resigned herself to a life with Koss. After Koss released her, over her protest, Trip attempted to re-establish rapport with her. She refused him."

Jul openly emitted a sound that could only be called a faint groan and covered her eyes. "Their history together begins to resemble a badly-written pre-Reformation drama."

"There is yet more," T'Para told her.

"How could there be?" Jul demanded in disbelief. "Were they not drawn back together by their child?"

"No," T'Para paused in her food preparation and looked out the window. T'Lissa was back to digging, but this time she had climbed into the box and was stirring the dirt surrounding her. The child was coated with filth from hair to feet.

"No," she repeated, looking at Jul. "Trip finally was unable to tolerate the situation and transferred to another ship. Being a healer, I invite you to deduce the result."

"Their bond was in turmoil," Jul said thoughtfully. "Then they were abruptly separated. I would expect an ongoing pattern of mutual distress to ensue."

"Correct," T'Para said. "Trip's brain had finally developed sufficient cross-linkages to make telepathic communication possible. During their separation both of them experienced a nearly constant barrage of shared dreams. Meanwhile, T'Pol found it impossible to meditate without making involuntary contact with her mate. She eventually came to terms with what was happening. Trip transferred back to _Enterprise_ and the two of them attempted to... begin anew. Then T'Lissa appeared and they began family life together."

"I speculate that during none of this were they able to spend a significant time alone together, coming to terms with each other and the situation." Jul did not lower her hands from her eyes.

"Your speculation is correct." T'Para put on a pot to boil. "Not until I ordered them to sojurn here for an extended period of counseling. It became necessary after Trip was arrested."

Jul dropped her hands and sat upright in her chair. "Why was he arrested?"

T'Para began chopping carrots. "He was driven to violent madness due to telepathic feedback caused by T'Pol's brain damage."

"Brain damage?"

#

Eric Hess got out of the aircar and felt his jaw drop open. "Holy... crap," he whispered. "Sis never told me she'd married into royalty."

The driver finished unloading his luggage and came around to join Eric at the edge of the parapet. Behind them the automatic lift pulled the aircar down into the garage for maintenance and preparation. The ancestral home of his sister's in-laws was a five hectare walled compound with a main house the size of a castle, a separated garage, several storage buildings, and what looked like at least two entrances to subsurface areas. All of it built from native stone.

"Mr. Hess." He turned, startled out of his startlement. The driver stood patiently holding his suitcase and duffle with no sign of strain. "If you will follow me?" Eric nodded and the driver took off with Eric in hot pursuit. He feared that getting lost in this place would mean certain death from starvation.

A sliding door at the end of the roof opened into, of all things, a turbolift. "Now this is handy," Eric noted. "Quite logical in a place this size, too."

"Indeed," was the driver's only comment. Eric watched a lighted indicator panel flash a series of vertical bars, then switch over to horizontal bars, then back to vertical again. Finally an almost inaudible hum stopped and the door slid open to reveal a wide hallway festooned with antiques. One of the antiques stepped forward and and said, "Greetings, Mr. Hess. I am Krewar, the House Steward. Follow me to you quarters." The walking fossil turned and headed out, not bothering to look back.

"Wow." Eric walked into his room and turned in a slow circle.

"Is there some difficulty?" Krewar asked, pointing the driver toward the wardrobe, which looked to Eric like a medium sized cargo flat could be rolled inside without scraping the doors.

"No. No difficulty," Eric said quickly. "It's just... huge." He leaned his neck back and looked up at the ceiling, wondering about weather patterns.

"If you prefer smaller chambers, they can be provided," Krewar told him, shooing the driver out the door. Eric turned and raised a hand as the guy left, which was not acknowledged. He didn't expect it to be.

"This is fine, really," Eric assured him. "I'm just not used to living this way. I travel from job site to job site, and most of the time I sleep in hotels where I'm lucky if I don't have to share a shower. This is..." He paused to look at the bed, about half the size of an Olympic swimming pool. "More than I anticipated."

"The architecture of this abode pre-dates the Reformation of Surak," Krewar told him. "Current preferences in living arrangements are less ostentatious. In any case you will not be required to share sanitary facilities. This way."

Eric ambled after him with a bemused feeling of being ready for anything. Considering the rest of the place, he wasn't surprised to find a bathroom that even Caligula might have thought was a bit overdone. "Very nice," he managed to get out.

Krewar told him, "Your sister and her adun are available if you desire to meet with them. However, if you prefer to rest and prepare yourself prior to the evening meal, that will be acceptable."

"Oh no, she's not getting away again," Eric grinned, then remembered himself and covered his teeth back up. "I've waited too long to see that woman and meet this poor guy she hogtied. Where can I find them?"

"From your reply, I deduce that you wish to meet with them immediately?" Krewar said uncertainly. Eric nodded, and he continued, "Follow me then."

Down the hallway, around the corner, down a set of stone stairs, along another hallway and into a second turbolift. Out of the turbolift and up a short flight of more modern steps to an exterior walkway. Back inside through an arboretum, around the edge of a truly gargantuan rotunda, another hallway, down yet another set of stone steps, and along an endless hallway that disappeared into the gray distance. Before Eric's feet could snap off at the ankle Krewar abruptly stopped, opened a door, and disappeared.

Eric ducked through after him only to discover that it led into another hallway. He felt like bursting into tears.

The final hallway dumped them out into a drawing room. Or maybe a reception area. His quarry was waiting and, joy of joys, drinks were available.

"There he is!" Anna lunged up and crossed the room in a couple of bounds, grabbing him in a bear hug. Eric was barely breathing anyway, so it really didn't matter. He tried his best to give as good as he got, but concluded that with Anna living on Vulcan it might not be safe to continue teasing her at his usual rate. Her arms felt like steel cables.

They pulled apart and Eric suddenly felt concern. "What's wrong, Anny? You look like crap. Sit down before you fall down."

"Now don't you start," she protested but let him guide her back to her lounge. "It's bad enough with Kov hovering over me." She looked up at the man who stood stiffly watchful beside the chair and smiled dreamily. "Speaking of which, this is him. Kov, this is Eric."

He sighed and forced his fingers into the unnatural contortion again. "Peace and long life, Kov, son of Kuvak," Eric recited carefully. "It is an honor to meet my sister's betrothed."

Kov returned the gesture. He said, "Live long and prosper Eric Hess, brother to my t'hy'la." Then he stuck out his hand. "I regret the delay and inconvenience that you endured."

Eric relaxed and shook. "It's ok, don't worry about it. I understand about things coming up unexpectedly." Anna shoved a mug into his hand and he grinned. "Thanks. I always suspected you might turn out to be useful someday." Eric took a long pull of icewater and sighed in relief. "Oh man. That tastes good."

"Sit. Comfort yourself," Kov urged. Eric grinned and complied. Unlike most of the furnishings in the vast pile, the couch and chairs in this room were thoroughly modern, powered, and fully adjustable. He leaned back and raised the footrest feeling relieved.

"It's good you're here, brother dearest," Anna sighed, propping against Kov as he settled in next to her. "I have to meet tomorrow with the head granny of Kov's clan to plan our wedding, and I need moral support."

"Uh, hold on a minute there," Eric protested. "I don't know anything about planning a wedding. I can't even plan a dinner party. You remember what happened when I got stuck with setting up Dad's birthday party eight years ago."

Anna waved her hand dismissively. "I don't mean you have to help plan it. I just need backup."

Kov looked troubled. "Anna, I will be here. Not that I have any objection to Eric's presence," he quickly added.

"Honey," Anna raised up and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "If you weren't going to be here, I wouldn't be either. But Eric will understand what I'm going through better than anyone else. He'll also be better prepared to grab me in time to keep me from saying or doing something that can't be fixed."

Eric gave her a direct look. "What are you not telling me, Sis?"

"The old bat hates me, that's what," Anna grumbled. "She sneers at Humans, and she doesn't think I'm good enough to marry into her precious clan."

"Really," Eric said sardonically. "Are you sure that you aren't going overboard, sis?"

"My father assures me," Kov interjected, "that the Eldest was deliberately provocative at your first meeting in order to test your self-discipline."

"She provoked me all right," Anna smoldered. "I'd still like to knock her back on her sagging, wrinkled ass." Kov flinched and paled.

"Take is easy, Anny," Eric chuckled. "That temper of yours isn't going to solve this one. You probably just got off on the wrong foot. It isn't like she has the power to stop you."

"Actually, she does..." Kov looked intensely uncomfortable. "Unless I chose to break connections with my family again." Eric winced.

"You see?" Anna looked grim. "I have to work out some kind of truce with the old hag, when what I really want to do is knock her upside the head with something. But I refuse to be the cause of friction between Kov and his family. So when she comes over for dinner tomorrow evening I need to stay calm, cool, and collected. Will you help me out, Eric? Run interference if I need it and so forth?"

"Sure thing, sis," Eric said airily and took another sip of water. "It's just dinner with an old lady. How tough can it be?"

Kov looked dubious. Before he could offer a comment, Krewar reappeared and announced, "There is a comm for Adjunct Kov." His face did not change in the slightest degree, yet he still managed to project an impression of distaste. "It is one of your former shipmates. Tolaris, I believe."

"I will accept the call here," Kov told him.

Krewar raised two fingers to signal assent and proceeded to the southern wall. He manipulated a nondescript looking carving and a panel slid aside to reveal a small alcove equipped with a full comm and computer terminal. A few flashing movements of his fingers, to quick for Eric to follow, and he turned to report, "The communication awaits your convenience, Adjunct."

As Kov walked over to the terminal Anna explained, "Kov and his dad are helping the Vahklas crew find jobs. They'd have a terrible time fitting back in without someone pulling for them."

"That's decent of them," Eric approved. "It's good to stick by your friends. You never know when you might be the one needing a favor."

#

Two days later, Anna walked into the main testing lab at the warp upgrade project to find her boss hunched over a console. The biggest isolation chamber was occupied by a radiant generator that bristled with projectors of all descriptions.

"Increase power output 0.5%," Trip ordered tensely. Force field emitters surrounded the generator. At Trip's order the emitters on every side started humming. Several of them began to glow from overheated connections.

"Where are we, Steve?" Trip wanted to know. The sandy haired Human tech quickly checked his instruments.

"So far, no leakage at all." He grinned. "The shields are eating this level of output for breakfast."

"Don't get cocky," Trip warned. "This is nothing compared to what it looks like when warp containment really starts to fail. We're only taking baby steps here."

"That is factually innaccurate," one of the Vulcan women spoke up. "The equipment in use may be less sophisticated than that of some races, but the basic theories and procedures being applied toward these shields are identical to the ones used on our own warships. There is nothing superficial or primitive about this configuration."

"Thanks, T'Hosh," Anna offered with a smile. "We worked hard to get where we are. It's nice to get a compliment."

"She's right," an Andorian male agreed, making a minor adjustment to his board. "Your people have done well to come so far so fast. What you lack in technical knowledge you make up in creative adaptability. It won't take you long to improve on this."

Trip chuckled. "You two buckin' for a raise?" The Andorian twisted his antennae in amusement, while the Vulcan looked uncertain. "How about we knock off for lunch early, instead. I need to catch up with Anna. Meet back here at 13:00."

The work crew trickled ou of the lab and Trip walked over to greet Anna. "Welcome back, commander," he grinned. "I hope you enjoyed your little vacation, because the rest of us have been saving up a pile of extras for you."

Anna snorted. "I'm still on medical leave, Captain Tucker, sir. As you well know. But I brought you a present. Or actually, Kov brought you a present and I came along to see how badly things are getting tangled up without me here to keep watch over the place."

The pair of them started walking toward the lab exit that led onto the main factory floor. "Oh goody," Trip rubbed his hands together. "What is it? Chocolate? Tell me it's chocolate."

"Right. Like the son of a Council Minister is gonna be walking around with a box full of contraband under his arm." Anna punched his shoulder gently. "It's a who. Another one of Kov's old buddies needs a job. I already approved it, by the way." She keyed the inner door open. "The guy is qualified in warp theory, although he doesn't have a lot of hands-on experience in an engine room."

"Well, we need theorists too," Trip admitted. "Reverse engineering this Andorian tech to fit our junk isn't exactly elementary school math. We still haven't ironed out that discrepancy with the nacelle balancing."

"Still?" Anna muttered a mild curse under her breath. "I was hoping one of those shining geniuses back on Earth would work that out for us."

"The ones that designed the original warp six plans, you mean?" Trip said innocently. Anna winced and raised a defensive hand.

"Touche. Point taken. I'll get back on it as soon as I come back. Probably the first of next week if all goes well."

They stepped through the third sequential doorway and onto the facory floor. The noise level increased substantially. For the sake of the Vulcan technicians Trip had ordered sound baffles and sound-absorbing material to be installed throughout the plant. But the place still echoed from one wall to the other with hammering, drilling, welding, shouting, sawing, and occasional bouts of cursing.

"Reminds me of Santa's workshop everytime I step in here," Anna said impishly. Trip choked and shot her an appreciative glance.

"I take it Kov and his buddy are waiting in the main office?" he wanted to know.

"Yep," Anna told him. "I figured there was no telling where you might have wandered off to, so I parked 'em there and came looking."

"I meant to ask," Trip asked in a carefully innocent voice as they threaded their way between the machinery. "Eric called yesterday and mentioned that you were meeting up with the Eldest of Kov's clan last night to discuss the wedding ceremony. Everything go well?"

He yanked to a halt when Anna's hand clamped down on his collar. A quietly lethal voice whispered in his ear, "Trip Tucker, I love you like the brother Eric never had. But if you ever mention last night to me again, and I mean ever under any circumstances, I promise you most solemnly that I will be provoked to violence."

Trip chuckled. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Trip," Anna inquired dangerously. "Would you like the full and fascinating details of your first shore leave on Risa to become public knowledge throughout the factory?"

He froze. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"All right," he caved. "I won't mention it again. Scout's honor." He held up three fingers.

"Were you really a Scout?" Anna asked suspiciously.

"Take it or leave it," Trip snapped, disgruntled.

"All right, just don't forget that I know where the bodies are buried," she told him smugly. The resumed their trek officeward. The shallow concrete steps leading up to the second story were generally avoided by the Human staff in favor of the turbolift. Trip and Anna ignored the turbolift and took the steps two at a time. It was faster that way.

The entire second floor was air conditioned to twelve degrees centigrade below Human blood temperature at all times. The Vulcans found it chilly but tolerable. The Andorians considered it barely endurable, but at least it gave them a chance to get out of the refrigeration suits during meal breaks.

The side hallway leading to the offices, showers, and lunchroom was thickly carpeted. Around the right hand corner the first door led into the main reception area, which in turn led to Trip's office. As they entered Anna was telling Trip, "Kuvak asked me to paint another landscape to hang in the public gallery. Isn't that wild? I never thought anybody would consider my work that good."

"Don't sell yourself short, Anna," Trip told her, waving her through the doorway to his office and stepping through after her. "You have a real-" Every muscle in his body locked solid.

Kov and Tolaris had risen from the visitor's chairs when they entered. Boh men stood with hands folded and polite non-expressions on their faces. Trip stared and felt his own face getting tight and heating up.

"Tolaris." His voice snapped like a bowstring. Kov shot him an uneasy look while Anna turned toward Trip with gathered brows. "You got one hell of a nerve, I'll give you that much."

Tolaris closed his eyes and inclined his head. "Captain Tucker. I am honored to meet you again."

"Yeah. Right." Trip's voice was as flat as a board.

"Trip, what's going on?" Anna demanded. "I don't remember you two having any issues when the Vahklas docked with us. What's the problem?" Trip raised one hand and looked away, concentrating on his breathing.

Kov looked deeply troubled. "Trip, if there is some reason why you do not wish Captain Tolaris to join your team..."

"I believe I can clarify the situation," Tolaris said stiffly. He turned to look at Kov. "As you may already be aware, when we returned home I was diagnosed with pa'anar syndrome." Kov winced almost imperceptibly and nodded. "During our-"

"Shut up." Trip told him. "If you want to leave this office breathing, keep your goddam mouth shut. Got it?"

"Understood." Tolaris straightened looked toward the far wall. "Suffice that my illness affected both my judgment and my self-discipline." He looked back at Trip. "I wish you to be aware that I have received treatment since my return and I have been pronounced completely cured. However, I do not claim that this in any way mitigates my prior behavior."

Trip stared in disbelief. "You wanna blame it all on the pa'anar? That's it?"

"No," Tolaris said with as much dignity as the situation allowed. "I do not blame it on anything. I accept full responsibility for my behavior."

"What did you do?" Kov asked grimly. He did not look happy. Tolaris glanced at Trip.

"Captain Tucker has indicated that he prefers to keep the details private," Tolaris reminded Kov, who subsided looking chastened.

"Of course, I apologize," Kov said. He glanced at Anna, who looked mystified and held up both hands empty.

Trip stood gritting his teeth for a minute, then announced, "Everybody out of my office. Go wait in the reception area. I need to make a couple of calls." The two Vulcans obeyed immediately, but Anna came over and touched his arm.

"Trip," she looked disturbed. "Listen, I-"

"That was an order, commander." She blinked and stepped back.

"Yes, sir," she said between her teeth. Then she executed an about face and marched out, just barely short of stomping.

Trip sat down at his desk and rubbed his face. Then he concentrated for a moment and input an unusual series of numbers and symbols in Vulcan. A pattern appeared on the screen, representing the Vulcan High Council. Then the face of a middle-aged woman appeared. She spoke in High Vulcan. {Why dost thou call?}

Trip sighed. "I can barely understand you. Please use modern Vulcan or English."

{By what right dost thou demand this?}, the sour faced receptionist demanded.

Trip pinched his nose. Then he looked in her eyes and recited a short string of numbers, followed by the word "IDIC". The woman's eyes widened a trifle and she pushed a switch. The screen blanked, then cleared to show a pattern of colored interference. A machine filtered voice inquired, in flawless English, "What is the nature of your emergency?"

"I request a consultation with T'Pau at her earliest convenience regarding a matter of personal distress," Trip recited.

"Acknowledged," the machine voice replied. "Maintain connection." The interference remained on-screen and nothing more happened. Trip sighed and opened a second window, initiating a call to his home number. A few seconds later T'Pol's face appeared. She looked tense. Obviously he hadn't done a very good job of keeping it locked down.

"Sorry, hon," he told her tiredly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"An apology is not called for, husband," T'Pol told him. "An explanation would be welcome however."

Trip closed his eyes. He just didn't have the steam to look at her face when he said it. "Kov and Anna just brought in Tolaris for a job interview."

He didn't need to look at her face. The recoil through the bond was more than enough to make her reaction crystal clear. "Do they know?" she asked dully.

"I'm not sure how much they know, or might have guessed," Trip said. Before he could continue the other half of the screen cleared to display the face of T'Pau. He sat up straighter and tried to adopt a more disciplined expression.

"Greetings, Chief Minister," Trip said carefully in Vulcan. "It is most agreeable that you were able to respond to my request so promptly."

"I have informed you during prior meetings, Charles," T'Pau said, "that I am available at any time to assist you and your family. How may I serve?"

Trip shot a glance at T'Pol and gave a quick summary of the situation. Then he switched back to English. "Since you already know about what happened, and you are an expert on the subject, I wanted to ask your opinion of something." T'Pol sat quietly, listening and offering no input. This was a matter of business, and it properly fell under the authority of the Head of the House. Trip silently prayed that he wouldn't end up making things worse, no matter how it worked out.

"Ask your question, Charles," T'Pau said patiently.

Trip took a deep breath. "Tolaris claims that his illness affected his judgment and his self-control. I'm not going to accept that as an excuse, but would it be possible for pa'anar to cause a person to behave in a way that they wouldn't otherwise act? Like, for example...you know... the way he acted?"

T'Pau looked deeply thoughtful, while T'Pol's distress trickled through despite her best efforts. Trip could feel her fighting to hold back the tide, but her emotions were leaking anyway.

Finally T'Pau told him, "Depending on the degree of damage, and on the circumstances, it is not impossible that some individuals might be induced to behave in a manner that was atypical to their ordinary patterns. For example, in the matter of Tolaris and T'Pol, it must be acknowledged that she did in fact invite the meld initially, and she did in fact consent to continuing the meld for a time while enjoying the pleasurable aspects of the interaction. It was only after the meld had been in place for a significant period that she suddenly decided to terminate the connection. Under such circumstances, if caught by surprise, it is possible that someone who was already compromised by pa'anar might find it challenging to react appropriately."

"And if he's cured now?" Trip asked grimly. He didn't look at T'Pol.

"I consider it unlikely that Tolaris would commit any criminal offense," T'Pau told him. "He would not have bene released from therapy if the healers were not confident that he was no danger to himself or others."

"I could refuse to hire him," Trip said, half to himself. "If nothin' else, I could invoke command privilege. But then I'd have to list a reason. Even under command privilege I can't just put down that I don't like the sonuvabitch." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I suppose it isn't logical to hold someone responsible for what they chose to do when they weren't in their right mind, is it?" A sharp stab of pain came through the bond. He ignored it.

"If you do not wish Tolaris to be involved in the project," T'Pau said, "I will find another position for him. If necessary, I will create one."

"What would a Vulcan do?" Trip asked her, point-blank. "What, in your opinion, would be the logical course of action for someone in my position? Ignoring emotional bias."

"Ignoring emotional bias," T'Pau said bluntly, "If Tolaris has been treated and certified by the mind healers as cured, and if he is qualified for the position, you have no logical reason to refuse his application."

Trip nodded. "I am grateful for your assitance, Chief Minister. You have been most helpful."

"I am here to serve." T'Pau inclined her head and the screen went blank.

T'Pol started to open her mouth and Trip jumped in. "I better get back to work. I'll see you tonight. Give T'Lissa a hug for me." He hit the off switch before she could get a word in and sat back, shaking. Then he stood up and walked over to the door. "Tolaris, get in here and I'll give you your assignment. Anna, Kov, it was good to see you both. I'll see you next week Anna." Neither his tone nor his face invited reply, and none were forthcoming.

When Tolaris came into the office Trip told him, "Don't sit down, you won't be here that long. Here's how it's gonna work. You will be assigned to L'Haren's group. Do whatever he says, exactly the way he says to do it. You have one chance, and one chance only. One mistake, one screwup, on time you get caught bending a rule and you are out on your ass. Got it?"

"Understood." Tolaris stood at attention.

Trip stepped up in his face. He said quietly. "If I ever find out that you have let anyone, anywhere, know about what happened between you and my wife, I will hunt you down like meat. Believe it." He stepped back and resumed a normal tone. "This is a military project, we adhere to military standards of dress, cleanliness, and discipline. Report to L'Haren in grid 17q for further information and supplies. Dismissed." Tolaris spun around and headed out.

Trip walked over to the cabinet at the back wall of his office and pulled out a candle. He set it on the table beside the lounge he used when pulling the occasional triple shift. Then he sat down on the lounge and tried to enter the first level of meditation. After ten minutes he gave up and blew out the candle. He walked back to the desk and slid open a drawer, pulling out a bottle of well-aged whiskey. He poured three fingers into a disposable cup and downed in with dispatch. Then he interlaced his fingers and bowed his head over them.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

Chapter 7:

"Ma-mehk?" T'Lissa pulled herself up by both hands until she could peer curiously over the edge of the table. "What you makin?"

"It is a Human dish called meat loaf," T'Pol told her.

"Why you makin meet lofe? You don like meets," the little one inquired.

"This is true, daughter," T'Pol told her, continuing to knead ingredients together between her gloved hands. "However, it is one of your father's favorites, and he has not had the opportunity to enjoy it in quite some time."

T'Lissa reached out a finger toward the mix and was intercepted.

"No, T'Lissa. Meat must be cooked first." T'Pol slipped off a glove and reached for the spice rack.

"Why comes Sa-da likes meet n' you don'ts?" T'Lissa asked. "Krei T'Min said only amimals eats meets, but Sa-da's nots an amimals. Why come T'Min says that?"

"T'Min is still very young, as you are," T'Pol told her. "She has much to learn. Most Humans eat at least some meat occasionally. The optimum diet for Humans includes a mixture of both meat and plants."

T'Lissa climbed into a kitchen chair and considered this while T'Pol continued her food preparation. "How much 'm I s'posed to eat?" she wanted to know.

"That will be a matter for you to decide once you have reached adulthood," her mother informed her. "For the present, your father and I will supervise your diet in order to provide you with optimum nutrition."

"Does I eats meets sometimes?" T'Lissa looked intrigued.

"No," T'Pol told her, mixing the sauce. "Your current requirements for Terran proteins are met by taking dietary supplements."

"C'n I have some water?" T'Pol paused in her work to obtain a mug of icewater for her daughter, along with a fresh green onion. Mother and child spent a peaceful few moments together, working and munching, until another thought occurred to T'Lissa.

"C'n I have some meet lofe when it gets cooked?"

T'Pol stopped. A strange expression came over her face.

"Whassa matter Ma-mehk?" T'Lissa asked in concern, detecting her mother's distress. "I sowwy. I di'unt meenta do bad."

"You have not done anything wrong, daughter," T'Pol assured her. She peeled off her gloves and wiped her hands thoroughly. Then she moved around the table and took a seat next to the little one. "You are half-Human. It is entirely logical that you would wish to sample Human food..." T'Pol paused and took a deep breath. "If your father agrees, I will offer no objection."

"Oky," the little one said.

T'Pol hesitated and continued, "However, there are some things that you need to be aware of."

"Watssat?" T'Lissa blinked her bright eyes and looked up with innocent curiosity.

"Thus far, you interactions with other children have been limited to family," T'Pol told her. "Even among family, the other children you have encountered were old enough to be capable of self-discipline. There is a reason for this."

"Why come?" T'Lissa wanted to know, taking another healthy crunch off the end of her onion.

"Your appearance is Vulcan," T'Pol told her. "For now, your father and I believe that it will be best for you not to acknowledge your Human half to anyone but family."

"Why come, Ma-mehk?" T'Lissa put down the onion and used both of her tiny hands to take a sip of water. "Is bean Human bad? Sa-da's not bad. Anna's not bad. Hoshi's not bad. Eric's not bad."

"Being Human is not a bad thing," T'Pol said firmly. "Nor is being half-Human, as you are, a bad thing. It is a very good thing. But there is a reason that we must keep this a family secret for now. Therefore, it is not desirable for anyone outside of the family to learn that you have been sampling Human food, or that you must take Human protein supplements, or anything else that would let them learn about your Human blood."

"But Sa-da!" T'Lissa protested vigorously. "Sa-da's Human. I gotsa tell about Sa-da!"

"You may tell about your father being Human," T'Pol agreed. "If anyone inquires further, simply inform them that it is a private matter. It is unacceptable for anyone outside of family to inquire into private matters."

The little one considered this. "Oky. But why come?"

T'Pol took a deep breath. "The reason for this will be revealed when you are older. It might be that you will someday be free of this necessity. You father and I would find that quite agreeable. But for now, it is imperative that you follow my instructions."

"Duzzat mean I can't have any meet lofe?"

"We will discuss it with your father when he returns home."

#

Trip looked up from the work bench as Ensign Wu strolled over. "Larry. Just the man I'm looking for," Trip said with an evil smile. "Me and Greta are about to tear down this regulator, and with those macho muscles of yours I nominate you for the main casing connectors."

Larry Wu rolled his eyes. "You've been picking on me ever since I won that last weight lifting competition," he complained good naturedly. "If you little wimpy guys would move around once in a while, you wouldn't need me to do all the work."

"But then," Greta told him with a lascivious grin, "us girls wouldn't get to see those muscles ripple." All three chuckled.

"Seriously, I'm here on a mission, boss," Larry told him. "The receptionist told me to give this to you on the run." He handed over a note.

"Didn't look like you were running very fast when you came over," Trip snorted as he unfolded the note.

"Hey." Wu held up his hands. "On Vulcan, that's as fast as I get." He watched Trip's face change. "What is it, boss? Trouble?"

"Naw." Trip put the note away. "Just another bureaucrat to deal with." The other two groaned in unison.

"Better you than the rest of us," Greta told him with scant sympathy. "That's why you get the air conditioned office."

"Wanna trade?" Trip asked as he walked away.

"No!" came the chorus behind him.

Trip took his time hiking back to his office, pausing along the way frequently to check on various work stations. He had a good idea why Kuvak wanted him to call, and he really wasn't looking forward to the conversation. But on Vulcan, one simply did not ignore a call from a High Council Minister. Not even if you were friends with his son and his daughter-in-law. In fact, especially not then.

In his office he took time to pour a tall mug of ice water and down it. Then he refilled it before sitting down in front of the terminal. As a personal friend of the family, Trip had a special access code for direct contact. In less than a minute the face of Kuvak's primary secretary/receptionist/assistant/fetchn'tote appeared on the screen.

"_Captain Tucker. Minister Kuvak is expecting your call. Maintain contact."_

The screen went to a holding pattern for a few seconds until Kuvak came on. On one hand, the old guy looked better than Trip had ever seen him. Several of the lines on his face had disappeared completely. On the other hand, he looked troubled. Trip sighed silently. "Peace and long life to you, Minister. How may I serve?"

"_Live long and prosper, captain. Your prompt response is agreeable. I wish to repair the damage inflicted on your association with my son's adun due to my family's interference with your project."_

"Dama-? Oh." Trip rubbed his brow. "You're talking about the way things are a little bit strained between me and Anna right now."

"_Correct. As it was my son's action that precipitated the conflict, it is my place to negotiate a settlement of the matter."_

Trip winced. "It isn't that serious, honestly. Me and Anna have worked together for years, and this isn't the first time one or the other of us has gotten our feathers... I mean it isn't the first time that we have come into minor conflict. It will blow over on its own, eventually. If anyone is at fault, it's me. I was upset and I reacted badly."

"_I must respectfully disagree, captain. My son reports to me that Anna is deeply troubled, to the point where she refuses to eat and has difficulty sleeping. My family indisputably bears responsibility for this situation. Surely there is some compensatory action that can be undertaken."_

Trip buried his face in his hands and let a deep sigh escape. "I'll talk to Anna. I had no business taking my frustration out on her. Honestly, I didn't realize she was still so upset." He dropped his hands and looked at the screen. "This is a simple case of Human personal friction after an emotional discharge. We've got well established customs for fixing this kind of thing. Let me talk to Anna, ok?"

"_I am relieved. It is reassuring to hear that your culture provides a standard set of responses for dealing with such difficulties. If I can be of any assistance, I request that you do not hesitate to call upon me."_

"Will do," Trip said. The screen went blank and he slumped, rubbing his aching temples.

#

T'Hosh finished her evening meal in typical solitude. She left the cafeteria and proceeded down the corridor toward her quarters. Through the active intercession of her distant kinsman, Kov, she had been able to obtain satisfactory housing in the apartment complex that the Humans had constructed for their employees. It was a significant benefit, and she fully appreciated the advantages. Therefore, when Kov made a slightly unusual request T'Hosh did not hesitate to comply.

She entered her living quarters and sealed the door with a feeling of profound relief. Finally, she could be free from the constant sense of negative evaluation. Unlike most of the Vulcans involved in the warp upgrade project, the former crew of _Vahklas_ had small difficulty interacting with the Human staff members. It was their fellow Vulcans that posed a challenge. She poured herself a small glass of wine and sipped it appreciatively, enjoying the soothing warmth. Perhaps an illogical indulgence, but she was past caring about such minutiae.

The comm unit made connection almost immediately. Kov offered respectful greetings, which she returned. "All is well to date, krei," she reported. "To the best of my knowledge. I have overheard no conversations to indicate dissatisfaction with Captain Tolaris in either his work performance or his overall behavior. As you may be aware, Humans are prone to disseminate information of general interest with great rapidity. If there were problems, I believe I would have been informed."

"Your confidential assistance in this matter is appreciated, krei T'Hosh," Kov told her with a slight inclination of his head.

"Is it permissible to inquire as to the reason that you are monitoring Tolaris so closely?" She waited while he thought about it.

"It is permissible, but I am unable to provide you with a substantive answer," Kov told her enigmatically. "There is an ongoing issue that I am not at liberty to discuss."

"Understood," T'Hosh inclined her head. "I will inquire no further. Live long and prosper." She closed the connection and sat back, considering. Then she keyed in another string of numbers. Tolaris answered immediately.

#

Tolaris expressed his appreciation to T'Hosh for the information and closed the connection. If Kov was singling him out for close observation, it had to mean that he knew about his faux pas aboard _Enterprise_. Tolaris growled. The woman had invited him to meld with her. She had sought out emotional insight willingly, even eagerly. What right did she have to...?

He rubbed his temples and thought about consulting a healer. The headaches were getting worse. Probably due to the stress of his situation, he concluded. Meditation wasn't helping much. He really needed to get back out into the desert. The only thing that helped relieve the pressure was hunting. If he could only find something to kill, to taste fresh blood still hot and pulsing. Then he could calm down.

He made a decision. Even though it had only been two days, he needed the release too badly to wait any longer. He would go out tonight at T'Khutrise. The public transport line had an exit point just outside the small meditation retreat atop Telo mesa. It was a popular destination for day trips among city dwellers who want to commune with nature for a few hours. The area around the retreat was rich with small game. He could take a change of clothing and basic supplies, kill, clean up and return before dawn.

Meanwhile, he had to do something. The pain was becoming intolerable. Perhaps a cold water shower would help. He headed for the sanitary facility.

#

She could feel his aching weariness clearly, long before he arrived. T'Pol prepared a pitcher of iced tea, rather than water, and made sure to include a plentiful admixture of lemon and sugar.

"Ma-mehk," T'Lissa wanted to know, "why come Sa-da sad?"

T'Pol paused in stirring. "I do not know, T'Lissa. I do not think he is actually sad, so much as depressed. I suspect it is due to extreme fatigue. I recommend that we attempt to assist him with his routine when he arrives."

"Oky!" The little one brightened at the thought of being able to help fix things. When Trip finally made it through the front door, T'Lissa was waiting with a mug of iced tea in one hand, and a towel in the other. Her father looked down and grinned before giving her a resounding smooch. Both ladies felt a surge of affection pour through the family bond. T'Lissa returned the grin proudly.

"Mmmm," Trip tasted the tea. "That's a nice surprise. What did I do to earn this?" He looked at T'Pol, who met his gaze steadily.

"Countless things," she told him as she awkwardly knelt to untie his shoes.

"Here, Sa-da," T'Lissa reached up on her toes with the towel and started jumping, "I wypa swet offa yer face." He braced himself against the wall with his free hand and bent over, trying to stand on one foot while T'Pol took off his shoes and T'Lissa almost knocked him backwards with the towel. Chuckles emerged from behind the terrycloth.

"Now his feet, T'Lissa," T'Pol instructed. The little one got busy rubbing her father's toes with the towel as her mother disposed of the socks and pulled out a pair of house slippers. Trip started snickering.

"That tickles!" T'Lissa matched his giggles and the pair had fun for a few minutes. Then T'Pol handed her daughter the slippers. She carefully shoved them sideways on to the wrong feet and stood up triumphantly.

"Dinner is prepared," T'Pol said, as she pulled herself to her feet. "I hope it is to your liking."

"It's meet lofe!" T'Lissa announced excitedly. Trip looked impressed. "Ma-mehk said mebe I c'n hav' sum if yu sez it's oky." He stopped his shuffling progress, necessary in order to keep the misaligned slippers from falling off, and looked pointedly at his wife.

"T'Lissa and I have been discussing the need to keep her Human heritage a family secret," T'Pol told him. "But having said that, it is still entirely reasonable for her to be curious about Human cuisine. The choice is yours."

"Well," Trip looked down. "You can try a taste and see how you like it. Not a good idea to make a habit of it, but sure, you can try it."

"Yay!" The little one scampered for the table. T'Pol watched thoughtfully and reflected that until they had T'Lissa, she had never understood the true meaning of the word scampered. Trip took the chance to sneak his slippers onto the right feet.

As it happened, T'Lissa hated meat loaf. "Uck! It nasty Sa-da! Why come you wanna eets dat stuff?" Trip philosophically forked up another bite and shrugged.

"I guess that just leaves more for me," he grinned. T'Pol struggled to contain her relief and filled her daughter's plate with salad.

After dinner, T'Lissa curled up with one of her favorite story books and Trip started yawning. "Husband," T'Pol said in resignation, "is it within the realm of possibility that I could persuade you to at least take a brief nap before you begin your evening paperwork?"

"I might just do that," he said to her stunned relief. "It's been a lousy day. I feel like I've been beat, kicked, and dragged over a rock pile."

"Come then," urged him toward their sleeping chamber, trying not to shove eagerly. "A brief rest will benefit you greatly." The chance to rest beside her bondmate would also benefit her own emotional equilibrium, she reflected. "I will clean up the dishes and join you afterward, if that is acceptable."

"That sounds great, hun," Trip smiled wearily. They passed into the lower gravity field and he let out an involuntary groan of relief. She assisted him in undressing without receiving any objection. Her mate was indeed exhausted. T'Pol's concern increased. She covered him with a single blanket and went after a damp cloth to wipe his face.

"Did something untoward happen today?" she asked him quietly. Ever since he came home the day that Tolaris had started with the project, the two of them had not discussed Trip's work. T'Pol was determined not to provoke the situation any further, and Trip did not volunteer any comments. But this kind of fatigue was exceptionally intense.

Her adun kept his eyes closed. "Me and Anna have been rubbing each other the wrong way for the past few days, that's all."

It wasn't all, and she could feel it. "Tell me the rest of it, Trip." She kept her tone even but made it plain that she wasn't asking, she was instructing.

Her adun let out his breath in a long exhalation and shook his head on the pillow slightly. "I blew my top the day that... the other day. Anna got ticked, naturally. We've been dancing around each other ever since. Today Kuvak called and told me that she's really upset and wanted to 'negotiate a settlement' of the situation. I calmed him down and went to talk to her and... it didn't go real well." He grimaced.

T'Pol sat immobile. "Rest, husband. Sleep. You will be better able to cope with everything once you have digested your meal and caught up on some lost sleep."

"You're," he stopped to yawn. "You're probably right." She stroked his face and leaned forward to kiss him. He was asleep in 42 seconds. T'Pol sat beside her adun until he was soundly invested in the first stage of his sleep cycle, then smoothly stood up without jarring the bed. She walked into Trip's home office and sat at his desk, triggering the comm unit and entering the code for Minister Kuvak's residence.

#

Kov was worried sick. Anna had come home from work even more upset than usual. Despite Chef L'Merien's best efforts, she hadn't touched her food. The two men traded glances and watched her poke and prod at the vegetables and steamed mollusks with concerned expressions. Kuvak asked, "Are you feeling ill, Anna?"

"No," she forced a wan smile. "I'm all right." She was lying and Kov knew it. His beloved refused to meet his gaze, even when he broke custom to reach over and take her hand. This situation was not going to continue, he privately vowed.

The House Steward walked in silently and stood at stiffly. Kuvak glanced up. "Yes, Krewar?"

"There is a comm message," Krewar announced flatly. "For Lady Anna. From Lady T'Pol. Shall I take a message?"

"No, that's ok," Anna stood up, seeming relieved to get away from the table. "I'll take it in the alcove."

"As you wish," Krewar inclined his head and led the way into the next room. Kov forced himself to go back to eating, even though the food tasted like sand. He wondered if Trip would agree to meeting with him to discuss the matter. Father and son proceeded with their meal in customary silence for several minutes.

"_THAT RAT BASTARD SON OF A BITCH!"_

Anna scream smashed through from the next room and echoed down the hallway, yanking both men to attention. They traded shocked glances. The next burst of sound was not quite as loud, but still quite audible.

"_Why didn't you TELL us, T'Pol? We would have spaced him for you. Any of us would. Unless you'd rather have had us girls skin the dung beetle alive instead."_

A brief pause ensued, followed by, _"I don't care, that's no excuse."_ Another, longer, pause. _"I know, you told me. But so what? It's still no excuse. No means no. As soon as we're done here I'm gonna go kill him myself. Trip won't have to get his hands dirty."_

Kov sprang from his chair and started heading for the doorway. Kuvak looked unsettled, no doubt recalling what happened the last time Anna became enraged, and the property damage that resulted. He still owed the Lonet-Quor sanctuary compensation for that fire.

Kov entered the next room to find his t'hy'la with a crimson face, staring at the comm screen and pounding her frustrations out on the arms of her chair. Krewar stood nearby looking, for the first time in Kov recollection, as if he had no idea what to do.

"Anna." Kov said. He reached for her and she swirled, glaring. He recoiled and reconsidered the idea of comforting her just then.

"Kov! Do you know what... th..." she choked on her words and finally raised both fists with an inarticulate howl of rage. Kov winced and caught her fists before she could injure herself or break anything serious.

"Whatever it is," he told her firmly, "we will deal with it."

"Oh, yes," she snarled, "We will. We certainly will." Her face suddenly changed. "Oh crap. Trip." She turned back to the comm. "I'm so sorry, T'Pol. All this time Trip has been packing this around, and I've been a real bitch. Please tell him I'm sorry. I'll apologize in person as soon as I see him."

T'Pol's image had been wearing an alarmed expression until Kov's arrival. As soon as his presence starting calming Anna down, the Vulcan woman's face smoothed over. "I doubt that Trip expects an apology, Anna," T'Pol told her. "If anything, he blames himself. Nor do I wish you to take any action of any kind against Tolaris. I simply could not allow this friction between you to continue because of something I did."

"Don't talk stupid, you didn't do it." Anna's voice was quieting. "Don't worry, we'll take care of this. That pig is hitting the street tomorrow. But I still think it would be better to put his head on a pole."

"Such a solution would generate more difficulty than it solved," T'Pol assured her. "I am reluctant to assign Tolaris such a significant portion of my attention. In fact, there is no logical reason to terminate his position."

"No logical reason? Says who? His presence is a clear and present threat to every woman in the factory," Anna proclaimed indignantly.

"As Chief Minister T'Pau pointed out," T'Pol said with as much dignity as the situation permitted, "he would not have been released unless the healers were certain that there was no danger. And once again, I initially agreed to it. He did not attack me."

"I don't care. You told him to stop and he didn't. And he hurt you," Anna growled. "All I would have to do is whisper in the right Human ear at the start of shift tomorrow. He'll never live to make it out of the factory. Manufacturing plants are dangerous places to work you know."

Krewar's face actually changed to a perceptible degree. Kov nearly collapsed from shock at the sight, but there was no time to indulge in emotional excess. Instead he put one hand flat against Anna cheek and whispered in english, "Beloved, let me help. Please." Something in his voice must have gotten through, for she closed her eyes. Suddenly a surge of rage came pouring through their young bond. He channeled it as rapidly as he could, bleeding off the pressure and sending back cool stability. Anna started to relax, slightly.

"I will handle this matter," Kov told T'Pol. "I am responsible for instigating it, I will bear the responsibility for dealing with it. Neither Anna nor Trip shall be forced to endure his presence again."

Anna shuddered her way back to awareness. "He'll never work on another Human project, or one that Humans are affiliated with, that much I can promise you."

T'Pol winced. "I request that this matter not be broadcast. I realize that-"

Anna interrupted. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else. But I won't need to. All I have to do is say that he's blacklisted as a known criminal. That will do it. If anyone gets stubborn, I'll remind them that I'm Kuvak's daughter-in-law. Nobody will argue with a Council Minister. His career is dog meat, you can count on it."

T'Pol looked relieved. "I should return to my duties. Live long and prosper." She disappeared.

Anna marched back into the dining area, followed closely by Kov. She closed both doors, and spent several minutes informing her mate and his father about the details of T'Pol's call. Kov's blood ran cold. "This is incredible." Kov swallowed hard. "None of us had any idea. Tolaris said that there was a disagreement with Captain Archer, and his Human emotions overcame his logic."

Anna laughed harshly. "Figures. What would have happened if he told you that he forced her to stay in the meld after she wanted loose? Then burned her brain when she tried to fight loose and ended up giving her whatever-that-syndrome-is?"

"We would have banished him from the ship at minimum," Kov said grimly. "At bare minimum. Quite possibly more."

Kuvak wondered, "How did he escape punishment? Surely Human law, even without specifics tailored for telepathic assault, must provide some response to this."

"He inflicted physical damage, so yes. Of course he could have been prosecuted. If T'Pol was Human, and _Enterprise_ was a Boomer ship," Anna told him, "we could have just kicked him out the airlock. But Starfleet won't let the captain punish anyone without a trial, especially when they're not an Earth citizen. T'Pol said she asked the captain to keep it quiet. She didn't want anyone to know that she'd been experimenting with melding."

"Logical," Kov said, feeling wrath grow deep inside. He fought to contain it. This was not going to be good. Not only had Tolaris injured his friends, he had deliberately used Kov. More, he had deliberately used Anna, and caused her pain by doing so.

No, this was not going to be good. He would need extra meditation tonight before he confronted Tolaris tomorrow. Violence was never desirable, no matter how richly it might be deserved.

"If Captain Tucker was aware of this," Kuvak asked, "why did he consent to adding Tolaris to his staff?"

Anna snorted. "Trip's committed to making sure that he never does anything that might make T'Pol or T'Lissa look bad, no matter what it might cost him personally. He called T'Pau for advice and she told him that a Vulcan boss would have no logical reason not to hire the ... not to hire him. So Trip decided that he wasn't going to refuse him a job just because he was a worthless, miserable, scum sucking-"

"Anna," Kov said softly and stroked her hand. She stopped and threw herself into his arms, sobbing quietly. He held her and avoided his father's eyes. Kuvak, on the other hand, continued sipping his water and appeared unconcerned.

"Poor Trip," her voice was muffled against his chest. "He was acting like some kind of prince, and here I've been pouting and whining just because he growled a little. I should have him smack me." Kov tensed, and Anna giggled. "Settle down, it's just an expression. He wouldn't do that even if I did ask him to, which I won't."

"Once more I am consumed with respect for that young man," Kuvak said thoughtfully. "However I cannot agree with the Chief Minister's opinion. Given the circumstances I doubt that most Vulcans would have been willing to hire Tolaris. I can testify that I would not."

"Nor will I provide him with further assistance," Kov said with quiet vehemence. "Let his clan provide for him. If they will not, then let him starve."

"Sounds good to me," Anna said.

#

T'Pol cleaned up the breakfast dishes with a feeling of cautious relief, tempered with concern. She had confessed to Trip just before he left about her call to Anna the night before, and Kov's statement that he intended to deal with the matter. She was gratefully surprised when Trip took it in stride. Perhaps the unaccustomed extra rest had helped more than she realized.

"Hey," he had said, stroking her hair. "It was yours to tell, not mine. If you're ok with it, I'm ok with it. And none of them are gonna blab about it." She had grabbed him in a neck hug and planted a deep kiss, to which he had offered no objection.

"T'Lissa," she called, "come. We must prepare for the outing."

Her daughter came bounding into the kitchen with a sketch pad in one hand and a fistful of crayons in the other. "Ware we goin' Ma-mehk?"

"We are to meet krei Jul and Healer Kerlek at the University," T'Pol told her, "for additional testing of your telepathic development."

"Oky," the little one agreed. "I get clozes on."

"First," T'Pol told her, "you must bathe. Then you put clothing on."

"Why come?" T'Lissa demanded. "I don' smells bad."

"That is a matter for subjective assessment," T'Pol retorted. "In any case, you are already covered with crayon material and marker ink. Proceed to your bathroom and divest yourself of your sleepwear. I will join you shortly to assist."

"Yer meen!" The little said fiercely. "I don' wanna bath."

"T'Lissa," T'Pol said calmly. "You are going to bathe. You may go willingly, or I will pick you up and dunk you. Which do you prefer?"

"Urrr!" Her daughter threw down the notepad and crayons before turning to stalk off.

"T'Lissa!" The child halted. "Pick them up." The little one hesitated. "One... two..." T'Lissa turned and started gathering crayons in a hurry.

A mere one hour and 53 minutes later, they were ready to leave. T'Pol took her daughter's hand firmly and marched her out to the garage where the family aircar was parked with a determined stride. The little one, still unbowed but not as truculent, followed along without actually fighting to get free. The flight was conducted in petulant silence.

T'Lissa started to loosen up a bit when they reached the University. Copious vegetation and small wildlife roaming the grounds triggered her naturalist reflexes, and she immediately started pestering her mother for information. T'Pol was forced to stop every few steps to provide an in-depth description of every flower, animal, insect, moss, bush, vine, and passing alien that they encountered. Most of the aliens offered a smile or the equivalent.

The two healers were waiting in Kerlek's office. Greetings were exchanged, in T'Lissa's case with bouncing enthusiasm. The adults took a seat in Kerlek's consulting room, while T'Lissa got busy dismantling a plastic replica of the Vulcan digestive system. Jul opened the discussion.

"I have been consulting with Human colleagues, under the guise of conducting research in comparative psychology," she told T'Pol. "The more I learn, the more fascinated I become. Also, the more I realize that monitoring T'Lissa's mental development is going to be a far more complex undertaking than we originally realized. I propose the initiation of a regular schedule of psych assessments to be conducted in conjunction with her physical examinations, in addition to her telepathic training."

"Healer Kerlek? Do you concur?" T'Pol asked.

"I do," he replied. "Based on my own studies of the Human central nervous system, I consider the suggestion logical."

"Then I agree," T'Pol said. "I am certain that Trip will have no objections," she added as an afterthought. She included mention of her husband as a backhanded reminder that under Human custom, both parents held authority for such decisions. Even though under Vulcan law, since it involved their child's health, authority for the decision was hers alone.

"That is agreeable to hear," Jul told her. "Since I intend to request his assistance with comparative testing in order to establish baseline characteristics. I also request that you assist in this endeavor as well."

T'Pol said slowly. "I am willing to do whatever is necessary for the sake of my child's healthy development."

"The complications involved in this situation are multiple," Kerlek said thoughtfully. "Human telepathy is almost impossible to study under typical circumstances, to the point that its normal operational parameters are virtually unknown. All we can say with any confidence is that it seems to operate instinctively and involuntarily. When one complicates the situation by the presence of both a Vulcan mating bond, and a paternal bond with a mixed blood child, it will be difficult to determine whether the word 'normal' even applies to Charles anymore."

"Ther's nothin' wrong with Sa-da," T'Lissa stoutly maintained. "Sa-da's the goodest Sa-da."

"Indeed," he mother assured her. "For you, he is the perfect father." T'Lissa settled down, mollified, and went back to work splitting open the mannequin's stomach. "What effect do you anticipate our family environment having on our son?" T'Pol stroked her belly automatically.

"Certainly another aspect to be considered," Jul agreed. "I suspect that your son's telepathic abilities will develop even more rapidly than T'Lissa's, due to constant stimulation from the sibling bond. But only time will determine the answer."

#

Junior Liaison Larka settled down on the bench, heavily padded as was typical for Human offices, and assumed a position of waiting. She expected Captain Tucker to be late for the appointment. Humans in positions of authority often were, both as an expression of power and because they were chronically busy. It didn't matter. She was ready to wait all day if necessary.

She was surprised that a serious incident hadn't occurred sooner than the fight which caused her transfer from Earth. The ambassadorial staff here didn't even understand the basics of Human custom - like the importance of prior messaging before a visit, particularly to a workplace. She recalled again the recording of the brief combat between former Attache (now Junior Clerk) Koret and a Vulcan technician. Her antennae twitched involuntarily. Idiot. Captain Tucker had been remarkably patient with the fool. Far more patient than Koret deserved.

At least she was here now. As explained by Ambassador Kilruym, her most important responsibility would be to ensure that relations between People's Hero Tucker and the embassy remained cordial. Secondarily she would provide a point of contact for any Andorians involved in the Human warp project. In her spare time she was to offer supplemental training to embassy staff who were required to work with Humans in the general public. She did not anticipate an active social life.

She was pleased and somewhat surprised when Tucker arrived only eleven minutes late. Larka stood up and noted he was wearing an expression that, according to her training, indicated suppressed anger. She pulled her arms in close to her body, folded her hands in front, and inclined her head forward. For Humans, this was supposed to be the least provoking position that an adult female could assume while standing.

Tucker wiped his face with a sleeve and looked at her. He sighed and walked over, smiling with what looked like effort. "Hello. You must be the new liaison from the embassy." He offered a customary hand clasp. "Good to meet you."

Larka took the hand and bowed slightly. His dossier confirmed that Tucker had spent considerable time working with her people. It was safest for her expect that he would understand her body language at least as well as she understood his.

"I am deeply honored, captain," she murmured. "I thank you for sparing this time to meet me."

"No problem," he told her. "I'm sorry about bein' late. Had a personnel situation to deal with. Let's go into my office and get some icewater."

As soon as the door closed behind them Tucker adjusted the climate controls. Larka felt a high speed burst of cold air begin to circulate and sighed in relief before she could catch herself. Tucker grinned over his shoulder at her. "I don't usually spoil myself like this, since I just have to run right back out into it. But you're giving me an excuse. Grab a chair, something cold and wet coming up."

She took the mug with thanks. "Now," Tucker settled into his chair. "What can I do for you?"

She launched into an explanation of her presence and objectives. He nodded thoughtfully, with only an occasional comment. At the end Tucker shrugged. "You're welcome to drop in anytime. If you want, I can fix you up with some office space here. Won't be much, but it might save you having to carry files and such back and forth."

"That would be most helpful, captain," Larka told him. Inwardly, she was delighted. She had made a good first impression. To receive this type of offer without even requesting it was an excellent sign.

"Let me call my second," Tucker told her, reaching for the comm. "She's the only one here with any idea about what's going on in the office end of things." He spoke briefly with someone named Anna, who agreed to meet her in the cafeteria within half an hour.

"Sorry I can't stick around," Tucker stood up. "But I'll point you toward the eatery. At least it's more comfortable than the reception area. Call me if you need anything, or call Anna. If there's any issue with the Andorians here we want to know about it and fix it ASAP."

She smiled and offered a Human bow, including the antennae flex indicating respecful acknowledgement. "I will certainly do so, sir. Thank you again for your generous welcome." She listened and followed his directions toward the food service area, reflecting that Human's weren't really hard to work with at all, as long as you didn't poke them too much.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack)**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note:** Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

Personal apology and promise:

It's been a ridiculously long time since I added anything to my latest two stories on . For that, I sincerely apologize. Most especially I apologize to the people who took the time to offer their comments.

I hereby promise that, barring unforeseen disaster, I *will* finish both of my stories. Both "Payment" and "Vahklas" are already planned out. In fact, I already have the final scene of "Vahklas written. It's just that between my health, and my family responsibilities, and the fact that I am trying my best to get something published that I migth actually get paid for... I just haven't taken the time to get these done.

I am sorry. I will do better. Thank you for your loyalty, and your feedback. It will be rewarded eventually.

Uh... that's it I guess. I better get busy writing.


	9. Chapter 8-A

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In addition, this story incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along with this. Or you might not. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

**Note Secundus:** I have been dealing with health and other RL problems quite a bit of late. One result has been a drastic slowdown on my writing. I apologize for the delay on getting this chapter out. I also apologize if it falls short on quality.

Chapter 8-A:

Tolaris sat hunched in the water shower letting the cold spray cover his head. It wasn't helping much. The only friends he had were abandoning him. His own clan was on the verge of disowning him. His head was about to split open from the pain and _none of it was his fault._

He moaned quietly and walked out of the lavatory, leaving the water running behind him. The bottle was waiting on the desk where he had dropped it. The Tellarite merchant had sworn that the drug was safe for Vulcan use, but he really didn't care at the moment. If it killed him he would be better off. Anything to stop the pain.

He read the label, which said "Aspirin." Chemical composition - acetyl derivative of salicylic acid, whatever salicylic acid was. The important part was where it said, "For relief of pain and inflammation." Recommended dosage for an adult Vulcan was five tablets. He swallowed ten and staggered back into the shower, opening his mouth to let a stream of cold water wash them down. In a moment the agony in his head began to cool somewhat. Then his stomach started to burn.

He needed to see a healer... A blinding flash of pain made his knees buckle. No, not a healer. The would confine him again for observation. If he had to endure another day of unlawful imprisonment he would surely lose control completely. He could not risk seeing a healer.

He needed to kill something. Badly. Unfortunately his preferred targets were not a viable option. Tucker was simply too well guarded. So was Hess. His traitorous former companion Kov was the son of a Council Minister. He was untouchable.

"She asked ASKED for it! She ASKED ME to show her melding! She WANTED to explore her emotions!"

He pounded his fists against his temples, trying to supplant the inner pain with physical sensation. No one cared about the truth of the matter. T'Pol was a friend of Kuvak and T'Pau. So was Tucker. Hess was Tucker's servitor and Kov's mate. There was no recourse on Vulcan against someone who had the favor of the highest reaches of government. His own clan would not dare to protect him, or even try. He would have to leave Vulcan again.

It wasn't FAIR.

#

Kov approached the Tucker's front door with hesitant steps. The door chime echoed pleasantly, followed almost instantly by the faint sound of small feet approaching at high velocity. The door slid aside to reveal Lady T'Pol and the child T'Lissa. Kov offered the ta'al and bowed stiffly. "Lady. Peace and long life. I bring news."

"Enter." T'Pol stood aside and motioned for the little one to give him room. "Be welcome to our home, Adjunct Ministerial Assistant Kov." She looked down. "T'Lissa. Escort our guest to the front room and make him comfortable while I prepare water."

"Oky, Ma-Mehk." The little one told Kov, "This way, Adjuns Misser Asint Kov." He dutifully followed the chirping native guide as she explained his options. "We got a hard couch n' a soft couch. Mosta Vulcan people who come liketa sit onna hard couch n' Human people liketa sit onna soft couch but not allus 'cause Edest came n' she sitted onna soft couch n' said it was comfy but it was too soft 'cause it wuz hardta get up from but it felt good onna butt n' Sa-da says he wouldn't sit onna hard couch 'cause his butt is too flat already 'n he don' wanna push it out the front of his pants but he was jokin' 'cause you can't really push your butt out the front of yer pants by sittin' on it can you?"

The little one fixed Kov with her blue-eyed gaze and waited patiently. Kov groped for words and finally told her, "I have never known of it happening."

She nodded. "I didn't think so I cud tell that Sa-da was bein' funny but sometimes I can't tell if he's makin' a joke or if he just thinks that somethin' is funny 'cause he gotsa disturtud sens o' humor is what the Edest says." The child stood beside a low stone bench expectantly until Kov seated himself.

"Your father merely regards matters from a Human perspective, T'Lissa." Lady T'Pol walked in carrying a tray with the traditional pitcher and cups. "That does not make his viewpoint any less valid."

The child nodded vigorously. "I know Ma-mehk 'n I can allus unnerstand him 'cause I can think like-." The little one gasped and her hands flashed to cover her mouth. Her bright blue eyes widened and she looked at her mother fearfully.

"Cast out fear, T'Lissa," her mother soothed. "Adjunct Kov is aware of your heritage. Although he is not a member of your clan he, Anna, and his father Kuvak are a special case. It is safe to speak of your Human blood in their presence. Although not when anyone else is able to hear."

"Oky, Ma-mehk." She relaxed and climbed onto the soft couch to sit with legs dangling and eyes bright. Her mother poured the ritual cup of water and offered it to Kov, who accepted it with appropriate gravity and sipped it politely.

Kov paused, then set the cup down. "Lady T'Pol. I have come to offer recompense for the injury that I have unwittingly inflicted on your House. I am ready to provide whatever resource, or perform whatever service, you deem appropriate."

T'Pol glanced significantly at her daughter. "I have already received notification from my husband of the events that took place on the factory floor this morning. Recompense of any kind would not be appropriate." T'Pol made a slight gesture. "I insist that you abandon the effort."

Kov looked unhappy. "I must respectfully express a difference of opinion, Lady T'Pol. My actions were the source of this disharmony." He hurried on when she started to speak. "As soon as I learned that Trip had reason to regard Tolaris with disfavor I should have removed him from the factory. I did not need to know why. The mere fact that Trip was displeased with his presence should have been sufficient. Therefore, I am responsible for the difficulty that has resulted."

"Responsibility for this distasteful situation is widely dispersed." T'Pol turned to the child. "T'Lissa. You drawing supplies have not yet been replaced. After you have completed this task, please begin sorting the vegetables for the evening salad."

"Oky, Ma-Mehk. I tear up the letsus." T'Pol pensively watched her daughter trot away before turning back to Kov.

"Adjunct Kov. It is my sincere wish that this entire situation be allowed to fade into the past. My behavior in this matter was far from admirable. I would find it agreeable if none of us were forced to confront the consequences of my poor judgment again."

Kov took a deep breath and inclined his head. "As you wish, Lady T'Pol. If at any time you decide otherwise, my offer will remain in perpetuity." He stood and waited while the extremely pregnant woman levered herself to her feet and escorted him to the exit. Kov headed down the walkway with the faint beginnings of relief.

#

Tolaris finally manged to dry himself off and get dressed. With shaking hands he lit a candle and assumed meditation position. But focus was beyond him. He finally slapped the candle across the room and staggered to the comm.

His krei's face grew solemn when Tolaris explained, in a voice that was perilously close to cracking, what had happened. "This is disconcerting news indeed," Koss told him, with a sympathetic expression. "I had not realized that Tucker's hatred of our clan was so virulent. Or...," he paused. "Perhaps my wuh'wak-ko-telsu wields more influence than I had realized."

"My own shipmate turned against me." Tolaris looked away bitterly. "I assisted Kov numerous times when he first joined the Vahklas crew."

"In justice," Koss said, "I suspect that Kov was acting to protect his father. Recall that T'Pol' mother was a close friend to T'Pau, and that Tucker wields great influence with the blueskins. The High Council considers it critical for planetary security that we maintain peaceful relations with Andoria for the present. It is quite likely that Kov was given no choice in the matter."

"This is your best appraisal?" Tolaris swallowed.

"It is the most logical deduction, based on the available data," Koss said. "I will attempt to intercede for you with the Elders. However, if T'Pol and Tucker are determined to destroy you, and if they are willing to use all of their influence to do so, I am not sanguine about victory."

"I am grateful for your efforts, krei Koss." Tolaris straightened and fought to wrap a whisper of dignity about himself. "It seems you are my sole remaining ally." The screen darkened and he turned toward the closet where he kept his satchel. The one with the cleaning supplies and change of clothing. And the knife.

A trip to the desert near Telo mesa was no longer optional. He had to kill something, or he would surely go mad.

#

Morning light stroked Trip's eyelids more gently than anytime in recent memory. He stirred and blinked, finding himself alone in bed. T'Pol's side of the sheet was still barely warm, she hadn't been up more than a few minutes. He yawned and stretched with a smile. It was Sunday. Half a day off. Wonderful. Then he remembered T'Pol's appointment. Whoops.

Trip rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Suddenly he stopped in the doorway and looked back. The new still hadn't worn off of the grav neutralizers. How long had it been since he was able to just roll out and get moving like that? Without virtually no effort at all? Trip grinned and hit the shower, whistling. It was going to be a good day.

Breakfast was ready by the time he was. Of course. T'Pol watched while he smiled and played with T'Lissa. She said nothing, but the bond was speaking volumes. Trip gave her several affectionate looks that were returned with interest. Definitely a good day. Trip cleaned up the dishes while T'Pol undertook to clean up the hooligan. Since T'Lissa had been thoroughly dunked the night before, only a moderate amount of scrubbing was required to make her fit for public viewing.

T'Pol objected to taking the aircar, but Trip held firm. "Walking is good, yes. But it's half a kilometer from the cube station to Kerlek's office. You are too far along for that. Wait here, wife. I'll be right back." She pressed her lips together and decided not to bother arguing. When he got like this it wasn't worth the effort.

She did however, put her foot down once they got to the parking garage. "Husband, a powered chair is unnecessary and illogical. I am quite capable of walking fifty meters to the lift, then another twenty meters from the lift to Healer Kerlek's office. I will only agree to use a chair if you will also agree to ride in one." He backed off, pouting only slightly.

"I wanna chair!"

"No, T'Lissa. You do not require a chair either. Your father is being overly protective again. Do not encourage him."

"But dey look fun!"

"They are fun, honey. Just like driving a ground car, only you can feel the wind blowing past. I think your mom would like it if she would just try one."

"Trip..."

"Oh, all right. Put your eyebrow down. You know I can't stand that."

"T'Lissa. Skipping is not appropriate. This is not a recreational area. I prefer that you walk."

"Oky, Ma-mehk. I sowwy."

"You have done nothing wrong. It is merely more appropriate to maintain a dignified pace when calling upon a healer."

"Here you go, honey. If you can't ride a chair, ride Sa-da's shoulders."

"Trip... this..."

"Yay!"

"Ow. No kicking, kid. Just hang on."

"Husband. Please."

"It's an educational experience, dear. I'm teaching her Human customs."

"Duz yer head hurt, Ma-mehk? Whyfore you rubbin' it?"

#

The air was moving swiftly along the edge of the mesa. Tolaris closed his eyes and drew in the pre-dawn scents of stone and plant and wildlife. Already he could feel the knots in his muscles loosening. This was the way Vulcans were meant to live. Out in the open desert. Not penned in cages like tame kbet.

The prior evening's hunt had been less than sufficient. He found only a few smaller creatures to settle his nerves before sunset drove him back to the visitor's quarters. He had risen before first light and, by the time the sun was halfway above the horizon, he was on the valley floor.

The trail down from the mesa was agreeably steep and twisted. It had required focus and balance, leaving him no time or energy for brooding. The broken terrain around the foot of the mesa was rife with small game, but today he needed more. Tolaris moved carefully through the boulder field, alert to the signs of prey worthy of his time and attention.

Before the sun completely cleared the horizon, his patience was rewarded. Gravel sliding and the sound of dirt being moved led him to a half-grown sehlat. Most likely a young male, too weak to compete for a mate this year. But he was past caring about any of that. It was alive, it was warm-blooded, it was strong enough to give him a real fight. It was his target.

The knife flickered from its sheath like a reptile's tongue. He circled uphill and climbed a small ledge, which gave him room to make a running leap directly onto the animal's back. The battle was brief but fierce. He poured everything into the fight. His rage, his fears, his shame... it all drained away into the surging power of his prey's struggle, into the scent of blood as it fountained around his blade, and into the screaming pain that echoed down the canyon as the sehlat died. Tolaris worked his leg from beneath his prey and stood up, breathing heavily and savoring the joy of the kill. He was clean and strong again.

"A most distasteful exhibition." He spun to see one of the priests from the Telo monastary regarding him disdainfully. The old man's hands were tucked into his sleeves, and his head was covered by a deep hood. Only his pursed lips and contracted brows were visible. "The beast displays no indications of illness or disability. There was no logical reason for it to attack you unless provoked."

Tolaris wiped his blade on the sehlat's fur and sheathed it. He strolled over to face the old man serenely. "I was the one provoked, elder."

The priest looked up slightly to meet his eyes. "Indeed? What danger did the beast present to you?"

"Danger? None." Tolaris smiled slightly. "I am provoked by the weakness that our people have permitted to drain them. I am provoked by those who would abandon our rightful heritage as hunters."

The priests eyes narrowed. "You do not follow the teachings of Surak?"

"I am V'Tosh Katur." Tolaris felt his smile widen at the disapproval that spread over the old man's face.

"This monastary and the surrounding area is intended as a peaceful retreat," the priest said. "A place of contemplation and restoration. It is not a preserve for the slaughter of endangered wildlife."

"If we do not redeem ourselves, and return to the ways that made us what we are," Tolaris said, "we will soon be endangered."

"Enough." The old man gestured and turned. "Come. It is time you left this place. Your violent lack of discipline is not welcome here."

Tolaris' hand moved by pure reflex. His fingers found the points of Tal-Shaya and applied the pressure without hesitation. The old man was dead before he hit the ground.

The ecstasy was like nothing he had ever felt before.

TBC


	10. Chapter 9

**Vahklas**

**By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack) **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Note: **Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**A/N:** This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. In particular, the conversation between Kerlek and Jul refers to material that was introduced in my story "Purgatory". This story also incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure, as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

**Chapter 9:**

Kerlek pronounced T'Pol to be in optimum physical condition, which got Trip grinning happily. Then the trap snapped shut.

"Husband," his devious wife gave him a look that dripped innocence. "Since opportunities like today are rare, I took the liberty of arranging for krei Jul to meet us here after my examination. She desires our assistance in her ongoing effort to evaluate and monitor T'Lissa's psychological development."

"Sure, hon," Trip said. Naive fool that he was. "Makes sense to me. This is the only chance we'll have for something like that until next week." He followed his wife, daughter, and Kerlek down a short hallway to a meeting room where Jul was waiting.

Five grueling hours later, Trip managed to weave his way out of the meeting room under his own power – but just barely. What his wife's cousin Jul had described as, "a minimal number of superficial tests to determine the parameters of Human telepathic ability," turned out to be a barrage of questions, tissue sampling, telepathic experiments, and more diagnostic instruments than Trip could remember. By the end of it, he was thinking wistfully about Andorian interrogation techniques. And there was no way out, either. The situation involved T'Lissa's health. Even if he had not been willing to help, which he certainly was, he lacked the authority under Vulcan custom to refuse.

Trip finally escaped by the simple expedient of declaring that it was past time for him to go to work. Invoking his own sphere of responsibility, business matters, gave him the only escape hatch he had and he slid through it like he was greased. Trip gave T'Lissa a hug, not caring about watching Vulcan sensibilities. He then offered T'Pol a finger touch and headed for the door as quickly as his shaky knees could handle. By the time he reached the aircar he only dropped the keys twice before fumbling the door open.

Trip didn't even try to pilot the car manually. He input the coordinates for the factory, notified central traffic control that he was going on full autopilot mode, and leaned the seat back with a moan.

"Most informative and intriguing," Kerlek said, reviewing the scan logs.

"My head hurtses," T'Lissa said, rubbing her face with both hands. "Hows come you made my head hurt, krei Jul?" She gave her elder a look that was not brim full of familial affection.

"That was not my intention, child," Jul told her. She finished filling the hypo and said, "Hold out your arm." The medicine hissed and Jul added, "If your father had not left so quickly, I would have offered him a choice of analgesics as well."

"My husband dislikes medication unless absolutely required," T'Pol said. Her voice was a touch uneven too. "I believe he left so quickly in order to prevent a complete loss of emotional control. The fatigue and stress inflicted upon him by this testing regimen was extreme." She placed her fingers together in the Pl'Trin position and focused briefly, banishing the pain and casting out her own irritation.

"It seems that subsequent sessions must be adjusted in length and intensity." Jul accepted the PADD Kerlek offered and scanned it with obvious interest.

"I wanna go home." T'Lissa looked up at her mother.

"As do I, T'Lissa," T'Pol told her. She looked at the healers.

"It will take a significant amount of time to analyze these results," Jul said. "I will provide you with a report when Kerlek and I have quantified the data."

"Satisfactory," T'Pol said, standing up quickly. "Come, T'Lissa. It is time to return home."

"OK," the little one said, taking her hand. "Can I has mushrooms on my letsus today? They taste good, and when lunch tastes good it makes me feel better."

"You may," her mother told her as the headed for the door. "You have behaved with exemplary discipline today. Such extraordinary effort deserves positive reinforcement."

The pair exited the office, leaving Jul and Kerlek to contemplate their results. After an extended period of silent review, Jul said, "I am struck by something."

"Specify," Kerlek said, absently, still scrolling through the EEG readouts.

"In every other case of inter-species telepathy that I have studied," Jul said, "varying degrees of interpretation difficulty arise. This is hardly surprising, since each race has a unique nervous system."

"Betazoids, for example," she went on, "Their empathic sensitivity exceeds our own in some respects, and some of their more gifted telepaths are equal to the Masters of Gol in range and strength - when communicating between themselves. But transferring thoughts between ourselves and a native of Betazed requires significant effort, even for the highly trained. Direct communication between a Vulcan and an Andorian telepath, according to T'Pol, is nearly impossible without artificial assistance. The variance in thought patterns caused by different brain configurations makes this inevitable."

Kerlek's expression changed. "I... have not made a study of this subject." He quickly looked back down at his readout, making a minute adjustment in the display.

Jul said, "Understandable. It is not a subject that a general practitioner would logically have a reason to pursue. Yet, I assure you that it is correct. The process of inter-species telepathic communication is invariably more challenging than communicating with members of one's own race. Only the fact that certain things are true of all DNA based life forms makes it possible at all. Therefore I am surprised, indeed, profoundly surprised, at the ease with which Charles has been able to form bonds with his family. Superficial research reveals that the Human central nervous system differs from ours in several significant ways."

Kerlek hesitated. "The Human brain is a most adaptable organ." He refused to look up from his readout. Jul gave him a curious glance.

"Is there an anomaly in the data?"

Kerlek hesitated again. "Not, strictly. No." He lowered the PADD reluctantly. "I must tell you something. It will almost certainly clarify the issue that puzzles you. But it is to be held under strictest confidentiality for the present."

"Certainly." Jul put down her PADD and folded her hands. "Proceed."

Kerlek's raised his hand halfway to his brow, then he caught himself and replaced it on his lap. He firmly clasped both hands and smoothed his expression. "During our monitoring of T'Lissa's development, Dr. Phlox and I have been conducting supplemental research in comparative genetics. As she is the first known, or rather, the first surviving Vulcan-Human hybrid it seemed logical to us to take advantage of this opportunity."

"Entirely logical," Jul's tone held unmistakeable approval.

Kerlek sat up even more stiffly. "As you might expect, the first thing we did was to perform a complete mapping of T'Lissa's genetic profile. Our plan was to compare her genome with both the Vulcan and Human genomes. Of course, both species genomes were mapped long ago, with each structure identified. We hypothesized that conducting a point-by-point comparison would provide insight into the logic behind T'Lissa's genetic code."

"Again," Jul said, "I find your logic intact."

Kerlek closed his eyes. "What we found was not, however, logical. We noted multiple anomalies in her genetic pattern and, when we obtained tissue samples from her parents, the anomalies became even more confusing. Ultimately we made a discovery that both Phlox and myself decided to withhold from publication for the present."

Jul raised both eyebrows. "What could be so controversial as to provoke suppression of research results?"

Kerlek opened his eyes and regarded her grimly. "We found, and it has been confirmed by multiple cross-checks, that more than 17% of the Human genome is both structurally and functionally identical to the Vulcan genome."

Jul froze in place for several moments. "You and Dr. Phlox both have respected reputations. There is also the fact that Denobulans are generally acknowledged as being among the best geneticists in the quadrant. I have no choice but to accept your assertion. Yet I still find myself unable to come to terms with it."

"I suffered the same difficulty in the beginning," Kerlek's face moved. "Doctor Phlox did manage to present a hypothesis that offers a logical explanation for what we foud. It is internally consistent, and it is supported by archaeological data on Earth. I suspect that we will never reach certainty on the matter."

"May I hear the hypothesis?" Jul leaned forward, tense, with her eyes glittering.

"According to my calculations," Kerlek put his fingertips together. "The specific base pair sequences present patterns that conform more closely to standard Vulcan biology than to Terran biology. I began my calculations based on the tentative premise that Vulcan DNA was somehow infused into the Human genome. Allowing for standard rates of genetic drift, I reached the conclusion that the infusion of Vulcan genes, if such had in fact occurred, must have take place at a point between 60,000 to 80,000 Earth years ago. I reported my results to Phlox, and he embarked on a search of the Human historical database."

"He found something?" Jul stood up, then suddenly realized what she had done. She stood, chagrined to the point of near embarrassment. Kerlek politely refrained from noticing.

"Yes," Kerlek told her. "According to Phlox, every Human alive today is descended from a tiny population who survived a catastrophic tectonic event. This event took place approximately 70,000 years ago. The event resulted in a temporary alteration in the planetary climate which both lowered the atmospheric oxygen content, and reduced the available water supply in the equatorial regions where the ancient Humans dwelt."

"Producing conditions not dissimilar to Vulcan," Jul mused. She looked up. "there is no possibility of parallel evolution causing the phenomenon?"

Kerlek made a negative gesture. "We ran multiple models under a wide range of conditions. The probability is low enough to be statistically insignificant"

"Wondrous." Jul stared into space. "You must publish these results. It would be negligent not to share this knowledge."

"We debated the option at length," Kerlek said. "We attempted to weigh the benefit of advancing science, against the potential harm that might be inflicted. Recall that only in the near past was the Human faction called Terra Prime finally subdued. Prior to that point they had made multiple attempts to assassinate T'Lissa and her family. We also considered the unfortunate fact that many Vulcan may not yet be ready to cope with the ramifications of this knowledge. While we were certain that the majority of both races would be reasonable about accepting the information, it only takes a tiny minority to cause significant damage."

Jul folded her hands deliberately and concentrated on the first level disciplines. "I grieve to acknowledge the possibility of harm. Yet there has never been a major discovery in history that did not carry with it the potential for disruption."

Kerlek looked troubled. "I have often had the same thought. But as healers we are sworn above all to do no harm. I am unwilling to bear the responsibility for this decision alone, and Phlox is currently en route to the Delphic Expanse. Following his ship's return, which may not be for several weeks, they are scheduled to embark on another deep space voyage of exploration."

Jul pressed her lips together. "I suggest a consultation with the principles involved. Call Charles and T'Pol in for a meeting and present the information to them. Let them make the final decision as to whether it should be released."

Kerlek slowly nodded. "It is a logical suggestion. One aspect that has troubled me is the fact that this information is known only to Vulcans and a Denobulan. I will find it agreeable to include a Human as well."

"It might be logically argued," Jul pressed her advantage, "that the final decision should rest with Humans in any case. After all, it is their own genome that we are discussing."

"Indisputable," Kerlek said. "I will prepare a message at my earliest opportunity."

"I would also welcome the opportunity to be present," Jul said.

"Certainly." Kerlek inclined his head.

Tolaris kept his eyes firmly closed, and his breathing steady. It was imperative that any passing observer perceive him as being deep in meditation. Meanwhile, he listened carefully to the conversation taking place at the other end of the corridor. The monastary's smooth stone construction provided excellent acoustics.

_"I find the circumstances disquieting."_

The voice belonged to a young Security officer who had been dispatched to investigate the old priest's death. Tolaris silently thanked the ancient gods that they had sent a foolish youngster, rather than a grizzled veteran. As long as his story remained consistent, he should be safe. A low ranking beginner would not be willing to take responsibility for initiating a major investigation without solid proof of a crime.

_"The dead sehlat showed no indication of starvation, disease, or mating frenzy. There was no logical reason for it to attack him." _

One of the two priests on duty replied to him.

_"It is unfortunate that animals do not always behave in compliance with the dictates of logic. Perhaps he startled the beast and it became frightened."_

The third, and oldest, priest at the monastery spoke.

_"Do you have an alternative theory?" _

The Security officer spoke slowly, plainly uncertain of himself.

_"The only other person present was the former V'Tosh Katur, Tolaris. They are known to behave erratically."_

The oldest priest sounded chiding.

_"This is true. Have you heard reports that the V'Tosh Katur have ever attacked anyone? I have not. Illogical though their behavior may have been, their reputation has not been destructive."_

The younger priest spoke.

_"Tolaris was injured by the beast himself, when he attempted to provide aid. The marks on his chest are completely compatible with the claws of the dead beast. His report that Stegne fell when the beast leaped upon him seems logical to me. Stegne was of notable age. Even a relatively slight impact would have been sufficient to cause the cervical fracture that killed him." _

The Security officer sounded convinced.

_"As you say. I will return to the city with the honored Stegne's body. Know that all of Shi'Kahr will grieve with thee." _

Footsteps faded into the distance and Tolaris bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile. Shortly after sunrise, an aircar landed outside and the younger priest came to inform him that a member of his clan had arrived to provide transportation for him.

Tolaris emerged from the mediation chamber to find Jorin waiting, to his surprise. He inclined his head. "Krei Jorin. You honor me."

His elder looked him over with eyes like laser probes, assessing every detail and weakness. Tolaris mentally grabbed his temper and hung on tight. Killing a kinsman was not only uncouth, it would be unwise in the extreme.

Jorin said, "The message came that you had been injured while attempting to aid a priest. I decided that the clan, at minimum, owed you proper treatment of your wounds and appropriate transportation."

Tolaris didn't believe a word of it. Jorin had another reason. Probability favored the idea that he was suspicious. His only viable option was to present an attitude of dutiful humility.

"I merely took the only logical course open to me, krei," Tolaris said. "Your willingness to offer support reflect favorably on yourself, and on the clan. But my injuries have been tended by the priests, and I have meditated sufficiently to bring them under control. However, the offer of transportation would be most agreeable."

"Then, let us depart." Jorin gestured and the pair headed for the aircar.

Anna pressed the button and waited while chimes echoed on the other side of the gate. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the disciplines that Kov had been teaching her. Nothing. Her mind was a total blank. Not surprising, given the circumstances.

The gate opened and a young member of Kov's clan looked out curiously. "You have business here?" He examined her with carefully hidden disdain.

Anna beat down any outward sign of irritation and offered the ta'al. "I am Anna, betrothed to Kov, son of Kuvak. I have an appointment to speak to the Eldest Mother."

His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly and the gate swung wide. "I will escort you."

Anna bit her tongue, hard. Customarily, a visiting member of the clan would simply be directed to the receiving room while the Eldest was notified of her visitor. His offer to escort her was not likely to be courtesy. She figured he didn't want to let a wild Human loose to rampage amongst the Eldest's property unsupervised. She was not surprised when he took position just inside the receiving room doorway and waited with her until Eldest Mother Laritkla arrived.

"Partik." The old woman's look raked him. "Your enthusiasm as gatekeeper is remarkable. Did it extend to offering water to your krei's betrothed?"

He stiffened. "I… no."

"Then do so," she said. "Let us demonstrate to Anna that this clan is aware of the principles of fundamental courtesy."

The young man's ear tips turned emerald, and he hopped to it. Anna accepted the cup of lukewarm water with all the gracious courtesy that she could muster. After the ritual greeting concluded, Laritkla said, "Perhaps it might be more appropriate for you to resume your position at the gate, Son of my House. Anna is a trained warrior. I am confident that she is capable of protecting me from any wandering k'bet that might penetrate this home's defenses."

Partik bowed and headed back to his post, tight jawed. Anna focused on a far corner of the room and struggled to center herself while Laritkla put down her cup and leaned back.

"Despite your misgivings, Anna," Laritkla said, "you are as welcome in this house as any other member of my clan. It would be agreeable if you are someday able to cast out your anger at my behavior during our first meeting. But regardless, I am here to serve. Tell me what you need."

Anna deflated and looked down at her clenched hands. "Kov doesn't know I came here. Not yet." She looked up. "I'm going to tell him of course."

"Of course." Laritkla tilted her head. "Does your difficulty involve Kov?"

"Both of us." Anna spoke very quietly. "We want children." He clenched hands tightened and worked each other. Laritkla waited patiently. Finally Anna went on, "We consulted with Healer Kerlek. I presume Kuvak has given you the background information about T'Lissa?"

"Yes," Laritkla said. "He considered it necessary that I be informed. I have told no one else." She paused. "Is there a medical barrier to children for you and Kov?"

Anna nodded. She forced her hands apart and gripped her knees, then looked up to meet the old woman's eyes. "Genetically, no. Kerlek said that he is confident that an expert could produce a healthy binary clone from our donor material."

"This is agreeable news. Yet it seems that a problem remains?" She leaned forward. "Cast out fear, Anna. The resources of the clan are available for all who require them."

Anna, to her horror, found herself choking on a sob. She jumped up and ran to the hallway, fighting to regain control. A few moments of deep breathing were enough to settle her nerves a bit. She returned with her chin up. "I regret my lapse, Eldest," she said, seating herself.

"In the family, all is silence," Laritkla quoted. "I cannot assist you if you do not inform me, child. What is the problem?"

Anna closed her eyes. This time, she didn't even bother trying to prevent the silent tears. "I can't carry Kov's baby." Her voice was desolate. "My body would reject a fetus with copper based blood." In the darkness behind her eyelids, she could almost swear she heard a sigh. Surely not.

"Kov is aware of this." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." She opened her eyes. "Kerlek said we could try arranging things so that the Human genome was dominant. But I'm not going to do that. The baby wouldn't be as healthy."

Laritkla looked thoughtful. "Are you quite certain of this? There seems to be no logical reason why one genetic pattern would be more desirable than the other."

"I'm sure." Anna rubbed her face. "I can't tell you where I got the information. But I'm sure. The baby will be healthier and stronger with Vulcan dominant genes."

"You came to discuss this with me, without your adun's knowledge." Laritkla put her hands together. "Logically, there are a limited number of reasons for you to do this. Probability indicates that you are requesting my assistance in arranging a host mother."

Anna swallowed hard and tried to speak. She failed. Laritkla tilted her head again. "If you require solitude, it can be provided."

"I'll. Be. All right." Anna put her hands together and started deep breathing. "I deeply regret my lack of discipline, Eldest. I ask that your disapproval fall upon myself alone. Kov has expended significant effort at teaching me proper behavior. My failure does not reflect in any way upon him."

"Speak no more of the matter." Laritkla flicked her wrist. "I consider the cause sufficient under the circumstances."

Anna sat silently for a moment, then nodded. "I am grateful for your consideration. To answer your earlier question, yes. I wish to consult with you regarding the possibility of a host mother."

"Do you realize, child, what you are asking?" Laritkla sat back and regarded her over folded hands. "For a Vulcan, the maternal bond begins to form in the womb. The child would be nurtured within another woman's body, and the initial bonding would inevitably form with her. Not with you."

"I know." It came out as a whisper.

"You would be willing to endure this?" Laritkla kept her eyes on Anna's face. "The bond that forms in the womb never fades. Even if the child never sees the host mother again, a connection will remain. Thus, through the child, the host mother will have a connection with your adun."

Anna's left hand gripped her right fist so hard that her fingernails drew blood. She never noticed. "That's why I want the host mother to be as close a family member as possible. There is always a connection between family, isn't there? At least potentially."

Laritkla raised a brow. "True. The blood binds, no matter how distant the connection. It is also true that a family member would never present a threat to your joining."

Anna's head jerked once. Then again. "Kerlek said that the closer a match the host mother was to Kov, genetically, the better it would be for the baby. He also said that I could begin to form at least a tentative bond, if the host mother cooperates, before the baby is born. And once the baby is born..." She sat up straight and stiffened her spine. "Once the baby is born, I will be his mother."

Laritkla looked at her very carefully. Finally she nodded. "Agreed. It is well that you thought to come to me now, before the marriage. It will give me extra time to explore possibilities. You must understand that finding an appropriate volunteer will not be a simple matter."

Anna took a deep breath. "I know that many people in Kov's clan did not approve of him choosing me. But we are bonded now. By the words of the Kirshara, we are already married and the ceremony is only a formality. I am a member of the clan, according to Surak. If they deny me, they deny one of their own."

"And do you consider yourself one of our own, Anna Hess?" Laritkla watched with hooded eyes. Anna met her look.

"Kov is my family. You all share Kov's blood. You will share my baby's blood. Therefore, you are my family. Anyone who doesn't like it will just have to get over it"

Laritkla's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Cast out fear. All will be well."

TBC


End file.
